


It Starts With Love

by Kurotoraa



Series: Smothered By Love [1]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Accidental Kiss, Angst, Angst and Feels, Fluff and Angst, Hanahaki Disease, Kenma is the best friend Kuroo will ever have, Kuroo why are you so dense, Lev is so clumsy, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Tsukki is a tsundere, Yaku is team mom, Yaku is tired of Lev's shit, debating if I should make this NSFW or keep it safe..., guess this won't be updating until I get an answer or make the decision myself, poor kuroo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-06
Updated: 2017-12-23
Packaged: 2018-12-11 23:20:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,350
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11724693
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kurotoraa/pseuds/Kurotoraa
Summary: Flowers are beautiful...but are they when they bring death?





	1. Surrounded By Petals

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He had heard of Hanahaki. A disease caused by unrequited love, the infected would suffocate to death by beautifully deadly flowers growing and spreading in their lungs. The only cure: returned love, or _death_. There were few cases of those who went through the surgery to remove the flowers, but it was rare; many people chose to die with their feelings of love intact, opting to die for that love instead of living and forgetting it.
> 
> Yaku knew this wasn't going to end well.

Yaku was tired. No, tired was an almost gross understatement, he was _exhausted_.

Last night, he had been unable to fall asleep, coughing frequently with his thoughts full of light grey hair, green eyes, and a childlike demeanor that was a nuisance at times. His whole body ached, his throat hurt, a headache was forming in between his eyes, and at that moment Yaku hated his life because he still had volleyball practice to attend.

Volleyball practice meant having to spend the day with all of Nekoma, and it was obviously not going to help whatever that was blooming at an alarming speed in his chest. Yet, no matter how much he wanted to call in sick, Yaku felt - no, he _knew_ \- that if he didn’t show up, something as innocent as volleyball practice would probably take a sharp turn in the wrong direction.

Although he wasn’t the captain nor vice captain of the team and was also a little on the short side, Yaku was clearly the only one with any hint of common sense (Kenma is also very smart, but he tended to go along with practically anything because he was too lazy to keep protesting against it), resulting in him having more power and authority than the actual captain at times. Yaku was quite literally the mother in the Nekoma family, constantly scolding and clucking about something, like a mother hen; Lev had accidentally called him _mom_ a few times too many, and the rest of Nekoma would incessantly tease him about it.

Sighing quietly, Yaku nibbles halfheartedly at his breakfast - just enough to count as eating - before dragging himself to the front door. His mother watches his retreating figure with a frown creasing her forehead, worried about how her son had very recently gained dark bags under his eyes and a terrible cough that didn’t seem normal in any way. Although he had insisted and reassured her many times that _it’s nothing serious_ , she knew her son very well and to her, it was blatantly obvious that something was horribly wrong. She prayed, with every passing minute, that her son would be miraculously cured from the mysterious sickness that ailed him.

Mentally shaking her head to dislodge the depressing thoughts, she quickly grabs a plastic bag, calling _Mori, honey, wait a minute!_ Yaku’s confusion radiates from where he stands at the doorway, reaching his mother through the wall that separates the kitchen from the rest of the house, even as he quietly stomps his feet to get them comfortable in his running shoes. Bustling around, Yaku’s mother grabs an unopened box of chocolate granola bars, a bottle of water, and a large container of various meat filled onigiri that she had made early that morning, placing them neatly into the bag. She rushes as quickly as she can to Yaku, who stands fidgeting with small, jerky movements, ready to leave.

“I have lunch in my bag already,” Yaku mumbled in confusion as he eyes the bulging bag dangling from his mother’s hand. He distinctly remembers shoving the normal slew of items into his bag: bento, water bottle he always used for volleyball, a few soft towels, the mostly white and red Nekoma jersey for his Libero position, knee pads, shoes, and an apple. While he had been waiting as his mother asked, Yaku had been compulsively checking his pockets, reassuring himself that he had his wallet, cellphone, and keys. “I don’t think I forgot anything,” he mutters to himself, anxiously patting his zippered pockets once again, as if something could’ve slipped through the closed pocket and fall out.

“You didn’t forget anything, this is just a little extra something, since you’ve barely touched breakfast,” his mother laughs softly, reaching out a slender hand to ruffle his hair affectionately as guilt flashes in Yaku’s eyes, “I’m sure you’ll need something in your stomach to play volleyball, so eat some of this if you get hungry, okay? Don’t eat part of your lunch, then you won’t have enough to eat at lunchtime. There’s enough granola bars and onigiri for everyone on your team, so make sure you take a break and have a snack sometime.”

She smiles when Yaku leans into her touch, eyes half closing in contentment. With her son, she has found, he was almost exactly like a cat when it came to displays of affection: too much, and he would withdraw; too little, and he would become irritated and sulky, although it was an unconscious gesture for Yaku; provide just the right amount, and he would return the affection, albeit a little shyly and hesitantly. Yaku was the basically the textbook definition of _tsundere_ , hiding behind harsh words and a hostile demeanor, soft affection shining through the wall very rarely.

The comfortable silence is suddenly shattered by a low rumbling that sounded suspiciously like purring, and Yaku’s mother is delightfully surprised to find it originating from her son. When Yaku realizes the fact himself, he immediately halts the little pleased purrs that flowed forth from his chest like water, clearing his throat awkwardly. A light blush dusts his chests, and he nervously threads his fingers together, avoiding his mother’s gaze. Giggling for a moment, she helps Yaku push the plastic bag that she had been carrying into the duffle bag slung over his shoulder, a happy smile spreading across her face.

“I’ll be going now,” Yaku grumbles quietly, embarrassment still evident in his expression.

“Take care~”

 

***

 

As usual, the gym is deserted when Yaku arrives. Digging around in his pocket for a moment, he fishes the gym key out from where it was rattling around against his own house keys. Unlocking the twin large metal doors, Yaku kicks his shoes off, arranging them neatly together before padding into the gym with only his socks on. Plopping his duffle down, he takes out his indoor running shoes, carefully lacing them up as he leans his back against the gym wall.

Pulling out the necessary items (water bottle, towel, uniform) from his duffle bag, Yaku sets them neatly together in their customary spot on the bench, tugging his t shirt over his head and changing into the uniform. As he pulls the shirt into place, his mind wanders towards a particular half Russian male, who was most likely going to arrive late once again. Frowning in displeasure, Yaku grimaces and hunches over when something rises up his throat, forcing him to cough loudly trying to dislodge it. Slapping a hand over his mouth in an attempt to block the sound from echoing in the empty gym, he whimpers softly when he feels something delicate and soft like velvet slide over his tongue. Heart pounding at what must be an unhealthy speed in his chest, Yaku raises his hand horizontally, lowering his head to it and carefully opening his mouth.  
  
Soon, a small, fragile petal rests in the center of his palm. It was a soft pink, so light and pale that it was practically white, curling slightly at the edges.

When Yaku had woken up that morning with a few pale pink cherry blossom petals scattered around his pillow, he had automatically assumed that they had fluttered in through his open window; it was spring, after all, and cherry blossoms were everywhere - floating in the gentle spring breeze, drifting down from their trees, coating the roads and houses (and cars, trucks, sidewalks, bridges, _everything_ ) in beautifully fragile petals. It was the one week of spring many waited for, the week when all cherry blossoms bloomed to the maximum capacity of their short, short lives before wilting and dying, as if waiting for next year's week.

At the open doors of the gym, the petal drops from Yaku's slack hand, slowly drifting down to join the many identical others littering the floor. Yaku leans heavily against the door frame, watching the petal descend with a blank expression.  
  
He had heard of Hanahaki. A disease caused by unrequited love, the infected would suffocate to death by beautifully deadly flowers growing and spreading in their lungs. The only cure: returned love, or _death_. There were few cases of those who went through the surgery to remove the flowers, but it was rare; many people chose to die with their feelings of love intact, opting to die for that love instead of living and forgetting it.  
  
Yaku knew this wasn't going to end well.

 

***

 

Slowly, the members of Nekoma started to arrive at the gym.

“Good morning!” Kai Nobuyuki, Vice Captain. He always arrives 15 minutes early, just a few minutes after Yaku.

“Yo!” Yamamoto Taketora, Ace. With a delinquent personality and a burning desire to challenge practically everyone he meets (unless it’s a girl), it’s always a shock to see him arrive as early as he does, just one or two minutes after Kai.

“Morning!” Sou Inuoka, Middle Blocker, and Yuuki Shibayama, Libero.  An odd pairing, to say the least. Despite Inuoka being a middle blocker and Shibayama being a libero, they managed to find things to excitedly talk about with each other, and somehow always arrived together at practice, just under 10 minutes early.

“...Hello.” Fukunaga Shouhei, Wing Spiker. Funny enough, this extremely quiet second year always managed to arrive only 1 minute after Inuoka and Shibayama.

“Yo, everyone here already?” Kuroo Tetsurou, Captain. Every single time he arrives, Kuroo asks the same question, as if he didn’t already know the answer. He always makes sure to arrive just a few minutes earlier than their agreed upon time for practices, later than he probably should, but still early, to display his dedication.

“...Except Lev.” Kenma Kozume, Setter. Having completed the stage of the game he had been playing, Kenma saves his game data before pushing the device into his jacket pocket. He is a consistent quiet presence by Kuroo’s side, the two always arriving to practice together.

“Alright, let’s finish setting up, warm up, and get started with practice!” Kuroo claps his hands together once as he speaks, his voice echoing around the gym.

Shouts of affirmation ring out, and the once quiet gym is slowly filled with cheerful voices, shoes occasionally squeaking, and volleyballs smacking against the polished floors. Flexible as they are, Nekoma easily finish their warm up stretches, switching quickly to serve and spike practice. Yaku and Yuuki, the two who play the libero position on the team, stay on one side of the net to receive spiked volleyballs. Kenma stands on the other side of the net, setting volleyballs in quick succession for the rest of the team to spike.

Yaku feels a slight ache in his chest whenever his thoughts wander briefly towards _When is that idiot going to show up, he’s so late_ or _I’m going to smack that idiotic child giant_ , but thankfully he is able to shove his thoughts to a different subject before he feels the urge to cough. Yuuki is a formidable libero, but he is still a first year and lacking experience; Yaku makes sure to give him some advice and tips once in awhile as they receive volleyballs together.

“Good morning!” Lev Haiba, Middle Blocker. As per usual, he is 10 minutes late, grinning happily at the rest of Nekoma as he changes his shoes and steps into the gym.

“Oi, Lev, you’re late again! Get over here and work on your receiving!”

“Okay!”

 

***

 

Lev sighed, idly turning a volleyball over in his hands. Although he was mostly late to practice in the mornings due to his habit of chasing and catching cats, Lev had been late that morning because he had been thinking about Yaku. His normally large strides had shrunk with each step he took, and he had ended up standing still in front of a particularly large cherry blossom tree. As the petals drifted down around him, he had pondered about why Yaku’s kicks had recently been lacking strength.

_Is Yaku-san sick? No, he wouldn’t be going to practice if he was, would he?_

“Lev! Hurry up, it’s your turn!”

Pulling his gaze away from the colourful green, red, and white volleyball in his hands, Lev called a quick _Sorry Kuroo-san!_ before tossing it up towards Kenma. Raising his hands in the setting position, Kenma watches as Lev runs forward, tossing the ball into the perfect spot for the grey haired spiker to spike.

Lev doesn't notice until he was about to swing.  
  
Yaku, slightly out of it, was bent over with his back to the net (something you should definitely never do when spike practice was going on), reaching for a volleyball that rested on the floor.  
  
It was too late to stop, but Lev didn't want to die at the hands of his upperclassman. At the height of his swing, Lev managed to halt his hand, using none of the follow through motion and decreasing the strength of his spike significantly. Even with that, however, the ball struck the back of Yaku's head with a loud _smack_. The colourful ball bounced to the ground, the sound echoing in the suddenly silent gym as all activity ceased.

Even Kuroo, who would normally laugh at the situation, held his breath, waiting for Yaku to explode. Yaku turned with a much darker than usual death glare, and Lev immediately started apologizing, clapping his hands together in front of his face in a prayer like position.

“Yaku-san I’m so sorry I didn’t meant to hit you I wasn’t paying attention I’m sorry please don’t kick me I’m sorry--”

Kuroo starts trying to placate Yaku, inwardly cursing his luck for being the captain and having to deal with the scary and much shorter male. “Yaku, it was an accident, Lev didn’t mean it, don’t kill him--”

The bedhead captain makes a high pitched cat like sound of alarm when Yaku turns the death glare on him, raising his arms into the air in surrender. The whole gym is filled with a loud gasp from all of Nekoma when Yaku turns back to Lev and only sighs.

“Don’t do it again, Lev.”

Lev lights up, glad to be only reprimanded with no real form of physical abuse. “Yes, Yaku-san! I promise it won’t happen ever again!”

“Good.”

Kuroo tilts his head to the side in confusion. “Is Yaku broken?”

Yaku turns around, his excellent hearing picking up Kuroo’s muttered question. “Care to repeat that.”

“Ah, n-no. Sorry, Yaku.”

Later in the day, Lev somehow manages to bump into Yaku. Hard enough that the smaller male flops rather ungracefully onto his butt, a small surprised sound escaping him.

“A-ah, Yaku-san…”

 _How could I mess up so bad_ twice _in one day, just how bad is my luck?!_

Yaku glances up, eyes wide with innocent surprise, his usual glare nowhere to be seen. A moment later, his face twists into a grimace, and he curls inward towards himself, slapping a hand over his mouth as his shoulders shake. Kuroo, who strode up to break up an argument that was usually already underway, exclaims loudly in shock.

“Lev, just how stupid are you? E-eh, Yaku, go easy on him please…”

Kuroo frowns when he sees Yaku’s body trembling.

“Yaku...Are you feeling okay?”

When Yaku doesn’t reply with his usual snappy response - in fact, Yaku doesn’t reply at all - the dark haired captain's eyes flash with borderline panic. Dropping to his knees beside Yaku, he orders Lev away the way a mother would do to an annoying child. Lev, reluctant to leave, slowly slinks back to practice when Kuroo glares at him for his disobedience.

“Lev’s gone. Take deep breaths,” Kuroo murmurs lowly, gently coaxing the now coughing Yaku into his arms. Tracing soothing circles on the libero’s back, he worries about the coughs that shake through Yaku, wondering if offering water at this point in time would be a foolish move.

Lev watches Yaku in Kuroo’s arms, green eyes narrowing and pain filling his expression before he turns away from the sight, tossing the volleyball up again to Kenma. The setter makes the perfect set, but the Lev is no longer in the mood, running and jumping with less enthusiasm than before, his swing lacking strength.

Near the open door of the gym, Yaku coughs up a few more pale pink cherry blossom petals, shoving them discretely and angrily into his shorts pocket as Kuroo holds him to his chest. Thoughts diverted from Lev, he breathes a soft sigh of relief, tense body relaxing against Kuroo. Yaku closes his eyes, feeling a wave of exhaustion, his coughing fit seemingly robbing him of his remaining energy.

Intelligent cat eyes narrow as Kuroo observes the actions of the brunet in his arms. If looks could kill, Lev’s intense gaze would've probably made Swiss cheese out of the Nekoma captain. Raising the hand not busy with rubbing circles on Yaku’s back, Kuroo curls his fingers, beckoning to Lev.

Lighting up, Lev immediately rushes over, abandoning the ball Kenma had set for him.

“Lev...Take Yaku outside for some air, I think he needs a break.”

“B-but Kuroo-san,” Lev whimpers, “Yaku-san’s going to _kill_ me!”

“I don’t think he will,” Kuroo replies, expression troubled as he glances down at Yaku, who is leaning heavily against him with closed eyes.

“B-but Kuroo-san!”

“Just go, Lev.” When Lev whines in response, Kuroo sighs. “Yaku isn't feeling well, okay? Take him outside for some fresh air. Ah, it's slightly chilly, so I'll go grab my sweater for him--”

He is cut off by Lev dashing away, no doubt to grab his own sweater. A sly smirk spreads across Kuroo’s face as he watches the first year spiker return with his red Nekoma sweater and carefully bundle the small libero into it. The sweater practically engulfs Yaku’s small form, sleeves dangling far past his arms.

“I'll leave him to you,” Kuroo laughs, letting Lev take Yaku from his arms. He receives no reply; Lev's attention is focused solely on Yaku. Laughing softly to himself, Kuroo strides away, announcing loudly to the team that he'd receive spikes in Yaku’s place.

“...Yaku-san.” There is no reply, and Lev raises his timidly quiet voice a little, wondering if Yaku hadn’t heard him. “...Yaku-san?”

Yaku hums softly, leaning towards Lev, half asleep. His heart skipping a beat at the shorter male’s vulnerable state, Lev watches the sweat drops sitting on Yaku’s neck as he wonders what he should do. Curious, Lev carefully monitors Yaku’s response as he lifts the smaller male and sets him in his lap, Yaku’s legs framing his hips. Lev bites his lip, forcing down his urge to scream _Yaku-san is so cute!_ when Yaku snuggles closer to Lev’s chest, giant sweater making him seem like a small child.

Looping Yaku’s arms around his neck, Lev slowly stands, one hand on the small of Yaku’s back to make sure he doesn’t tip backwards, the forearm of the other under his butt to support his weight and make sure he doesn’t slide downward. Yaku’s short brown hair tickles Lev’s neck, his head a comfortable weight resting on the broad shoulder. At the doorway of the gym, Lev pauses to change his shoes, sitting down on the cement step as he also changes the shoes of the mostly asleep male in his arms.

Kuroo, concerned, glances towards the doorway and smiles softly when he sees Yaku snuggled up to Lev like a small koala bear, resulting in him receiving a spike with his face. As Lev walks slowly to a large cherry blossom tree at the side of the building to sit under, shouts of concern from the teammates of Nekoma rise in the gym as they fuss over their captain being hit in the face.

The spring sun beats down on Lev as he strode quickly towards his destination, taking careful precautions not to jostle Yaku too much. When he reaches the tree, he carefully sits down, resting his back against the thick trunk and gently arranging Yaku in what he hoped was a comfortable position. Wiping at the sweat on his brow, Lev sighs softly in pleasure when a gust of cool wind winds it's way through the cherry blossoms, filling the area around him with the soothing sound of softly rustling petals and cooling his exercise heated skin. Yaku shivers slightly, and Lev bundles him closer to his body heat, knowing he was a furnace from Yaku’s many complaints about his _childlike heat_. The cool shade of the tree, coupled with the gentle wind, lulls Lev to sleep.

Meanwhile, Kuroo is feeling anxious, unable to focus on volleyball. Kenma scolds Kuroo much more often than usual, and the bedhead captain has received many more balls with his face and legs more than anything else. Using his shirt to wipe at the sweat running in rivulets down his face, Kuroo excuses himself to get a breath of fresh air and the rest of Nekoma dismiss him, returning to serve and spike practice.

Striding out of the gym after having changed his shoes, Kuroo squints in the spring sunlight, casually fanning himself with a hand as he scans the area for Lev and Yaku. Spotting Lev’s gleaming grey hair under a tree, he strides quickly towards it.

Kuroo’s large steps shrink in size as he nears the tree, a gentle smile stretching across his lips as he sees Lev and Yaku asleep together. Lev’s head nods forward toward his chest, and Yaku sleeps peacefully where he is rested against Lev’s collarbone.

Just as the light on his feet Kuroo is exactly two steps away, Lev's narrow green eyes suddenly open, flashing with a predator's anger as a growl rumbles low and menacingly in his chest. His glittering eyes warn the dark haired captain not to take a single step closer, glinting with a promise of brutal bloodshed if tested. Out of pure instinct, Kuroo freezes in place, one foot in front of the other, reminded of a ferocious lion guarding possessions with predatory determination as Lev glares at him, long arms tightening slightly around Yaku.

The predatory glint fades from Lev's eyes and the growl that was rumbling low in his chest stutters to a halt when he recognizes Kuroo, Lev's familiar spacy grin replacing the serious expression he had just seconds ago.

“Lev…”

“Don’t wake Yaku-san,” Lev orders in a low voice, forgetting, for a second, that Kuroo is older than him.

Startled and feeling slightly threatened, Kuroo decides to stay where he is, voice a low murmur when he replies.

“I was wondering if you two were going to be joining us for the last bit of practice.”

“...I would love to, but I don't think Yaku-san is up to it…”

Kuroo arches a dark brow, surprised. Lev was showing a surprising amount of tact, taking care of Yaku with a lover's tenderness when he was usually very airheaded. No one would have guessed that Lev was actually paying very close attention to Yaku, although Kuroo did notice that sometimes Lev would purposefully say something stupid and take the kick from Yaku to cheer the shorter male up.

Lev sat patiently, gazing steadily up at Kuroo as he waited for his captain's reply.

“...Okay. Stay with Yaku and make sure he rests some more, we'll continue practice without you two. Frankly speaking, you look like you could do with a rest, too.”

“Thanks, Kuroo-san.”

“Come back and join us when you feel up to it,” Kuroo calls over his shoulder as he strides back to the gym, raising a hand into the air and waving it once.

 

***

 

Lev wakes to a chilly breeze filtering through the blossoms above his head, his sleep muddled thoughts mistaking the pale pink petals drifting down as snowflakes. For a few moments more, he sits wondering why it was snowing in the middle of what he remembered to be spring, before the weight resting against him captures his attention. Glancing down, his slumber addled brain stalls with the sight he is greeted with.  
  
Yaku shivers in Lev's large red Nekoma sweater, curling in on himself in an attempt to conserve heat. He huddles closer to Lev, lips parting slightly, allowing a small content sigh to escape. Slender fingers curl around the cuffs of the bright crimson sweater, the excess fabric of the too large article of clothing pooling around Yaku's elbows and hips.

Relieved to see that Yaku was still asleep, Lev’s gaze and mind wanders as he glances down. He wonders how Yaku’s short, slightly spiky, but definitely soft looking hair would feel under his fingers. How would the smooth, lightly tanned unblemished skin feel like? What about the delicately beautiful fan of his eyelashes, hiding intelligent brown eyes? His eyes slide lower, meeting soft looking lips that look _oh so kissable_.

Lev wonders what would happen if he kissed those lips. Surely Yaku wouldn’t notice?

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Lev’s back is bent, face hovering close to Yaku’s for a split second before their lips connect. Yaku tastes of something sweet, something Lev can’t put a finger on. He hums thoughtfully, tongue darting out to gently lick Yaku’s bottom lip.

_What is it...Oh, red bean!_

Beneath Lev, Yaku slowly wakes to the feel of pressure against his lips and warmth at his back. He gasps softly, eyes fluttering open for a quick moment before they flutter shut again. Half asleep, he allows himself to drown in the feeling of inexperienced but gentle lips that convey adoration and love, along with the comforting long arms and sturdy body that hold his suddenly weak one upright.

Encouraged by Yaku’s quiet gasp and the lips that parted for him, Lev presses forward, the kiss sloppy but sweet and determined. Yaku’s breathing stutters for a moment when Lev shyly nibbles on his bottom lip, body slumping boneless in the spiker’s arms. The half Russian male tightens his grip on Yaku, long arms carefully supporting the smaller frame. Lev no longer remembers when the brunet had woken up, but he relishes in the feel of the fingers that have captured the front of his t shirt, gripping the material in a fist and holding on as if it was a lifeline.

_I’m kissing Yaku-san…_

_I’m kissing Lev…?_

The thought runs through their minds before they both process the actual meaning behind the words, pulling apart and bringing a hand up to plump kiss swollen lips.

Bright green eyes, with the pupils blown wide, stare at Yaku in bewilderment before Lev immediately begins apologizing, flinching and covering his face with his hands.

Yaku sighs, inhaling deeply as the taste of cherry blossoms flood his mouth, plant roots and blooms shrivelling in his lungs. He feels them disappearing, leaving his chest light and his throat clear. “About time.”

“About...Eh?! Yaku-san, you’re not angry!?”

“You like me, don’t you, Lev.”

“I--You--How--I...Uh,” Lev stutters in a moment of pure brilliance, the sight of the brunet sitting in his lap and earnestly gazing up at him leaving him speechless. Yaku forces Lev’s hands down from his face, uncovering flushed red cheeks and green eyes that refused to meet his.

“Let’s go back to practice,” Yaku suggests, laughter lingering in his voice as he slowly vacates Lev’s lap, stretching lazily like a cat would after a nap.

With a low groan of embarrassment, Lev gazes up at Yaku with a frown, ready to voice his complaints. His eyes widen in surprise before softening in pure affection, paying no heed to the breeze blowing cherry blossoms into his hair.

The afternoon spring sunshine glows warmly, illuminating Yaku’s frame from behind. A gentle breeze swirls around him, floating pale pink cherry blossoms in its current and surrounding the brunet with the beautiful delicate petals. Yaku has his eyes closed, stretching with one arm raised into the air, the very long sleeve of Lev’s red sweater sliding down and pooling at his elbow. When Yaku lowers his arm, the sleeve falling back down way past his fingertips and eyes blinking back open, he finds Lev staring up at him with glittering green eyes.

Laughing at Lev’s awestruck expression, Yaku asks, “What--”

“...Beautiful.” Lev doesn’t seem to realize that the single word had slipped unbidden from between his lips, his tone equal parts reverent and affectionate.

Lightly flushing, Yaku leans down, sliding his hands into Lev’s hair and gently bumping their noses together. Lips twitching upward at the flabbergasted expression that the taller male wore, Yaku ruffles Lev’s hair, shaking cherry blossom petals loose.

“Let’s go,” Yaku repeats, tugging at Lev’s arms until the spiker stands to his impressive full height, looming over him.

 

***

 

“Hey, we’re back,” Yaku calls, “It’s past lunchtime, but my mom gave me extra onigiri, take a break and have a snack.”

Shouts of affirmation ring out as the team halt their practicing, flocking towards Yaku as the libero retrieves the food from his duffle bag.

Kuroo smiles when he notices that Yaku no longer looks as tired as before, Lev unconsciously standing much closer to the brunet.

“Kuroo-san, come have some!” Lev waves enthusiastically from where he stands beside Yaku, prompting a scowl from the other male at his volume.

“What are you doing over there by yourself, get over here,” Yaku calls with his usual _don’t argue with me, just do it_ tone.

Beautiful long pale legs, captivating golden eyes, and a signature condescending smirk flood the dark haired captain’s thoughts. Kuroo covers his coughing by pretending to choke on his water, lowering his head to hide his grimace.

He forcefully pulls his thoughts away, sighing before standing up.

“Okay, I’m coming.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey hey heyyy. After reading some great fics about Hanahaki, I just HAD to write one myself...  
> P.S.: I think we can all guess who Kuroo is thinking about ^^
> 
> Sakura (Cherry Blossom): stands for fragility, a reminder that life is fleeting and short


	2. Golden Eyes and Pretty Thighs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _"Stop it, Kuroo-san. Don't joke about something like that." Tsukishima's golden eyes are cold, colder than they've ever been. They narrow behind thick black framed glasses, the usual condescending smirk stretching across his face becoming a disgusted scowl. "In fact, that joke was so funny, I forgot to laugh."_

_"Stop it, Kuroo-san. Don't joke about something like that." Tsukishima's golden eyes are cold, colder than they've ever been. They narrow behind thick black framed glasses, the usual condescending smirk stretching across his face becoming a disgusted scowl. "In fact, that joke was so funny, I forgot to laugh."_  
_  
Turning on his heel, Tsukishima strides away, white number 11 standing out against the black and orange of his Karasuno volleyball uniform. A good distance away, he halts, voice a carefully measured indifferent drone with a barely perceptible undertone of anger. "Don't be mistaken. I hate you. Stay away from me."_

Kuroo bolts upright in bed, eyes flying open to a dark bedroom before he screws them shut, desperately struggling to calm his racing heart and heaving breaths. Slumping forward, he pants heavily, heartbeat thudding loudly in his ears.

It had been around 15 days since Kuroo had witnessed Lev somehow cure Yaku of his Hanahaki - Kuroo was convinced that it had been Hanahaki, but also not, and still unsure about the whole ordeal. What he is sure about, however, is that Lev and Yaku are now _“a thing”_. Pleased as he was with that new development, Kuroo had no idea how he was going to solve his own predicament.

Sadly, the one who had lit a blazing fire in Kuroo - intelligent golden eyes, gorgeous mile long pale legs, sassy comments, sly smirks that mirrored his own, and he was hooked - was from a different school altogether. Additionally, his Hanahaki had been progressing at an alarmingly swift rate. Curse school for being boring, teaching things that were mostly common knowledge (at least, according to Kuroo), and providing the enormous amount of excess time that could be spent pondering about things better left alone.

Kuroo raises a trembling hand at the sensation of a liquid splashing onto his bare chest, patting gingerly at the hot tears sliding down his cheeks. Muffling a sob with the now wet with tears hand, he closes his eyes, wondering how he'd fallen so hard for someone he barely knew.

Pulling his knees up, Kuroo hugs his legs close to his chest, curling in on himself. He digs short, blunt nails into his arms, carving little half moons into the skin. Exactly as he catches himself wondering how far his Hanahaki has gotten, Kuroo is wracked with unrelenting coughs, something threatening to escape up his throat and through his mouth.

Shaking, Kuroo leans over the side of his bed, coughing so hard and so loudly that he fears waking his mother. When it subsides into harsh panting and gasping, there is a fragrant taste of flowers in his mouth and a small pile of thin crimson petals on the floor.

There had been a time in his life when a young Kuroo had been obsessed with the Hanahaki disease, searching up everything and anything possibly related to the subject. It had made him wary, and he had promised himself he would never fall in love. Young Kuroo had been proud, seeing himself as a much taller and very handsome playboy who would be breaking girl’s hearts all the time, while secretly protecting his own within an unbreakable cage.

He never wanted to fall in love. One sided love is ridiculous. Rejection is the worst. Yet, here he was, lying drained on his bed and struggling to breathe normally, the image of red petals on his bedroom floor - undeniable proof of the love he had never wanted - seared into his brain.

Kuroo Tetsurou, high school student. Dying because of love. _Dying_. Despite that, there’s only one thought that crosses his mind.

_Fuck. Can’t hide this now._

 

_***_

 

Naturally, his mother found out.

_“Tetsu, dear, if you’re sick, you can stay home, you know.”_

_“I’m not si--”_

_“I’ll call the school now and tell them you’re terribly sick with the flu and can’t attend class for at least a week.”_

_“Mom--”_

_“Don’t worry about food, I’ll cook before I leave, and there’s lots of stuff in the fridge. Stay home and rest, okay?”_

_“I’m--...Okay. Thanks, mom.”_

_“Get well soon, dear.”_

Mother knows best, after all.

 

***

 

_“Don’t be mistaken. I hate you. Stay away from me.”_

“Wait, Tsuk--!” Hazel cat slitted eyes fly open to see a large hand outstretched towards a white ceiling. It takes Kuroo a long moment to realize the hand is his own, gaze traveling from strong knuckles down the length of his arm, towards his shoulder. With a heavy sigh, the arm flops down to rest against the blanket Kuroo is currently partially curled under.

This time, he allows the tears to freely trace their way down the side of his face, pooling in his messy dark hair or on the pillow.

Mechanically and almost automatically, Kuroo leans over the side of his bed, retching loudly, thin crimson petals finding their way past his lips and into the wastebasket he had placed near the bed. The amount of the petals had increased over time, and he spends a long minute hurling them up, eyes pushed shut and still leaking tears. He isn't sure why he still cries, anymore.

Kuroo’s mother stands right outside his bedroom, back leaning against the door as she listens to her son cough. It was Friday - a week since she had called the school - and Kuroo’s condition was now so terrible that he no longer leaves his bed (at least, not as far as his mother has seen, since she works for most of the day and Kuroo’s bedroom door is always closed, but she assumes that he drags himself to the bathroom when he needs to), weakly eating the rice porridge his mother leaves at his bedside. She resolves to allow her son to have one more day, before she brings him to the hospital to have the flowers surgically removed from his lungs; it pains her to see the usually energetic Kuroo bedridden and slowly wasting away. With a heavy heart, she leaves for work as silently as possible, quietly locking the front door and pulling out her phone to dial a number.

Whimpering softly, throat aching, Kuroo crushes a pillow to his chest, turning his back to what he knew was a large pile of red spider lily petals. He had been curious enough around three days ago to search up what flower was essentially killing him, and it had dismayed him to find out the spider lily mainly stood for death, no matter how much he had searched for something different. Kuroo drags a hand across his cheeks, wiping uselessly at his tears, before swallowing back the pitiful whimpers he had been emitting. The metallic copper taste of blood overwhelms his senses for a moment, and Kuroo immediately envisions crimson dots of blood, _his blood_ , dotting the petals accumulating in his wastebasket. Without even gracing it with a glance, he knows that he would be greeted with the exact sight that had been imagined by his helpful brain.

Somehow, he just _knows_ : _He doesn’t have long left_.

Carefully swallowing a few spoonfuls of the now cool rice porridge his mother had left on his bedside table, Kuroo burrows under his blankets, praying to every god he knew to be merciful and allow him a few hours of sleep.

 

***

 

“--sleeping...thank you…--stay the night?”

_Mom?_

“No...--insist...Please...stay.”

_Who is she talking to…?_

A quiet voice replies with something Kuroo can’t hear through the closed door of his bedroom.

_Is it Kenma? Nah, he’d be too lazy to come all the way here...Who could it be?_

Pushing his face against his pillow, Kuroo sighs, quickly abandoning the puzzling identity of the mysterious person at his house, attempting to return to sleep instead.

“This is his room; it’s unlocked, go on in.”

_What...?!_

The door slowly opens, and Kuroo is quick to force his body to relax, controlling his breathing to appear asleep.

“...Pardon the intrusion,” a quiet voice murmurs, so familiar in its coldness that Kuroo is unable to hide the shudder that runs through his body.

“Tsu--,” he whispers in awe, before slamming his mouth shut, heart pounding. Kuroo hopes that it was quiet enough for the person standing in the doorway of his room to have missed it, but apparently the gods he knew were finished with being merciful, having provided him with the few hours of sleep he had begged for.

“As I thought, you were awake.”

“...Tsukishima.”

“Kuroo-san.”

“Why are--No, _what_ are you doing here?”

“...Kenma texted me.”

“Kenma tex--...What.”

“According to him, I’m the only one who can help you get better, whatever that means. Also, he’s too lazy to come here himself. How do you feel, your childhood friend picked video games over you.”

“Wow, rude, Tsukki.”

“...Don’t call me that.”

Kuroo falls silent, pondering over what Tsukishima had just said. _Kenma said he was the only one who could help me get better…?_

_...Shit. Kenma knows?_

“What’s that face for.”

“Huh?”

“It’s not like I’m worried about you, Kenma all but begged me to come. Geez, you’re not dying or anything…”

Tsukishima huffs softly, setting a white grocery bag onto the floor with his schoolbag. Slitted hazel eyes watch as golden ones catch sight of the bloody flower petals resting in the wastebasket, widening slowly in surprise. The blond head lifts, and Kuroo is shocked to see something bordering on anguish and panic on Tsukishima’s face.

“You’re not dying or anything…” Tsukishima repeats in a whisper with a dazed look, staggering back a microscopic step before collapsing to his knees. “You…”

Avoiding the golden eyes that stared vacantly at him along with the expression that looked as if the blond’s world had been shaken to its core, Kuroo glances away. _When had Tsukishima closed the door?_ He knows he has to try. If Tsukishima ended up hating him...Well, him making the time to come all the way to Tokyo from Miyagi had to mean something, right? Fixing his gaze on the ceiling above him, Kuroo inhales deeply, not at all ready for the answer he would receive, but determined to plow forward to the end.

“Hey, Tsukki. I like you, you know?”

“...Stop it, Kuroo-san. Don’t joke about something like that,” Tsukishima replies, voice wavering imperceptibly.

When Kuroo’s head whips to the side to gaze at Tsukishima, he finds that the blond had turned, presenting his back. Kuroo’s nightmare comes back full force to haunt him; he feels silent tears running down his cheeks, face twisted in despair. At the silence, Tsukishima turns back toward Kuroo, and is _dumbfounded_ by what he sees.

“...Why are you crying.”

“Ah, sorry Tsukki,” Kuroo sniffles, “How manly of me…” He slaps a hand against his mouth, body convulsing as he turns and coughs, red petals made darker with red blood landing in the wastebasket.

Tsukishima realizes that Kuroo hadn’t understood him. Standing swiftly and stepping forward, he pushes Kuroo flat on his back against the mattress, distressed by how easily the once sturdy and strong frame yielded to such light pressure.

“How dumb can you be? Misunderstanding something like that…” Tsukishima feels the flush rising on his cheeks as he leans over Kuroo, face hovering close to the incredulous one beneath him.

“Tsukki, what--”

The rest of Kuroo’s question is swallowed by Tsukishima as he presses their lips together, kiss starting off sweet and slow but soon turning hungry and desperate.

 _I don’t want you to die, Kuroo-san. Please understand this time. You can’t die. After all_ , Tsukishima leans forward, tongue delving into Kuroo’s eager mouth, the two practically inhaling each other like the air they needed to survive.

_I love you._

The blond pulls back, golden eyes softening and cheeks flushing darker as he adjusts his glasses and gazes down at Kuroo, who lay limp against the mattress in astonished silence.

“Kuroo-san, I--”

He is interrupted by Kuroo swiftly leaning over, coughing loudly, shoulders shaking with the force and effort. A single, perfect red spider lily lands atop the pile of mangled flower parts in the wastebasket, delicate petals intact and curling slightly at the edges.

“Kuroo--?!”

Kuroo flops onto his back, grinning widely even as his exhausted body riots about all the aches and pains it had. He inhales deeply, exhaling loudly in satisfaction when nothing blocks his airway, closing his tired eyes to give them some rest.

“...Kuroo--”

“Tsukki!”

Tsukishima jumps a little, startled by the sudden return of Kuroo’s loud energy that sometimes even rivaled his owl like friend Bokuto’s.

“...What is it?”

“I’m cured! Thank you~”

Smiling softly, the blond exhales a soft sigh in relief. Kuroo leans over, throwing his arms around Tsukishima.

“What are you doing, Kuroo-sa--”

The blond yelps when Kuroo pulls him onto the bed, displaying his normal strength with a wide Cheshire cat grin. Resting their foreheads together, noses touching, Kuroo whispers, face suddenly serious.

“I love you, Kei.”

Tsukishima exhales loudly, body slumping boneless on top of Kuroo’s and burying his face in the crook of Kuroo’s neck. His cheeks are tomato red, and even the tips of his ears are not spared from the flush. Kuroo laughs, pure and elated, hugging Tsukishima tightly.

“I...love you too,” Tsukishima whispers, so quietly that it was barely heard over Kuroo’s laughter.

Silence settles over the two, before it is shattered by Kuroo.

“...Come again?”

“I’m not saying that ever again.”

“Tsukkkkkkkiiiiiii,” Kuroo whines, “That’s not fairrrrr.”

“Not saying it.”

“TSSUUUKKKKKIIII. So cruelllll.”

“Not saying.”

“Fine,” Kuroo pouts, looking exactly like Bokuto when he has one of his emo modes.

Sighing, Tsukishima gives in. “...I love you, Tetsurou.”

Kuroo immediately lights up, voice loud as he declares, “I love you too, Kei!” His strong arms tighten happily around Tsukishima, little sounds of delight escaping him.

“...K-Kuroo-san...Can’t...Breathe…”

“Sorry, Tsukki,” is the cheerful reply Tsukishima receives as the arms around him loosen just a hair, along with a huge yawn that presents him with the perfect view of Kuroo’s tongue and pearly whites.

Catching sight of the concerned glance Tsukishima gave him, Kuroo is quick to reassure. “Just a bit tired, Tsukki. Don’t worry about me.”

“...I’m sure you haven’t had a proper night’s sleep in a while. Sleep.”

A palm lightly hovers over tired half lidded hazel eyes, fingertips of long slender fingers absently stroking the edge of disheveled black hair.

“But…”

“Sleep,” the blond repeats, insistent.

Featherlight, Kuroo’s eyelashes flutter once against Tsukishima’s palm before they are still. The pale fingers continue their distracted caressing, startled to a halt when the head beneath them shifts. Kuroo pushes his head against Tsukishima’s hand like a large cat asking for attention, a rumbling purr momentarily breaking the comfortable silence that had settled.

Tsukishima exhales a quiet laugh before complying, carding his fingers through the silky dark strands.

 

***

 

Kuroo’s mother carefully approaches her son’s bedroom door. It had been quiet for hours, the silence never having been interrupted by any voices, sounds, nor terrible coughs. She had held herself back from checking for most of the past few hours, but her curiosity was burning with a vengeance; she was sure she would be unable to sleep until she saw, with her own two eyes, that her son was safe and well. Silently turning the knob and pushing the door open, she peers into the dark room.

Tsukishima is sitting upright with his back pressed against the headboard of Kuroo’s bed, fingers gently playing with the head of bedhair at his side. His blond hair practically glows in the dim, and Kuroo’s black hair is the perfect counterpart - the dark balancing the light.

Deeply asleep and finally receiving the rest he deserved, Kuroo is relaxed and pressed close to Tsukishima, his strong arms wrapped around the waist of the blond. Hovering in the doorway and squinting slightly to see, Kuroo’s mother watches as Tsukishima smiles softly with blatant affection in his golden eyes, reaching down to slowly pull the blanket higher up on Kuroo’s exposed shoulders. Just as she contemplates the idea of leaving them alone, golden eyes wander up to meet hers.

Clearly startled, Tsukishima stiffens, gaze wary and stance defensive; even asleep, Kuroo picks up on his anxiety, arms tightening around his waist and body squeezing closer. Wincing, the blond dips his head to whisper _Kuroo-san, too tight_ , lips tilting upward when the arms around him loosen in exchange for Kuroo pressing even closer, the lean but well muscled body curling protectively around Tsukishima.

“...Uhm--”

“Thank you,” Kuroo’s mother interrupts in a whisper.

“I haven’t done anything--”

“Thank you for all you’ve done,” she repeats, bowing her head.

Flustered, Tsukishima raises the hand not tangled in Kuroo’s dark hair, waving it dismissively in the air as he pleads for her to raise her head, his voice a nervous whisper. “Please, please raise your head,” he pleads, brain desperately casting about for something, anything, to divert her attention to, “Uhm--if you don’t mind--I will take you up on your offer...I, uhm, didn’t bring any clothes, but I would like to stay here for the weekend, if it’s not a bother…”

“Yes! Yes, please do stay for as long as you want! I wouldn’t want you taking public transit home this late at night, either,” she smiles happily, pleased beyond measure. “Also, I put a container of cold noodles in the fridge, so if you two are hungry in the middle of the night, feel free to help yourselves!”

“Ah...Thank you very much.”

“No, no. No need to thank me, it’s my pleasure, dear.”

“...I'm Kei. Kei Tsukishima.”

“Tsukki?”

“...I’d prefer if you didn’t call me that, Kuroo-san already--”

“Hmm...Then...Kei-chan!”

“...Uh--”

“Make yourself at home, Kei-chan, you’re always welcome here,” she declares with a happy grin, and Tsukishima is instantly reminded of Kuroo.

“Mm,” he hums in reply, smiling softly.

“Here, I’ll get the futon, it’s more comfortable than that small bed…” Kuroo’s mother mutters almost to herself as she bustles to the little closet in the hallway, returning with a huge bundle of bedding. Refusing Tsukishima’s soft offer of help, she lays the futon down in record time, excusing herself with a cheerful _Good night, sleep well!_

 

_***_

 

The next morning, Kuroo wakes to find himself hopelessly tangled together in Tsukishima’s long limbs on his single bed, an abandoned futon on the floor near his desk. Black rimmed glasses rest on the headboard of the bed, and Tsukishima’s slender fingers are still buried in Kuroo’s chaotic bird nest hair.

Needless to say, the two immediately fall off the bed once Tsukishima woke up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Red Spider Lily: Death ; abandonment ; is said to be a symbol of reincarnation ; it is believed that if you meet someone you will never see again, these flowers will grow along your path
> 
> Prepare for tons of fluff next time~


	3. Cuddling With Cats 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter stretched on much longer than I intended, but I'm itching to post something, so here's part 1~!

“...Ouch,” Kuroo groans; taking a tumble off his bed first thing in the morning was not his idea of fun. His arms are tightly wrapped around a tense Tsukishima, who winces slightly when he tries to move. “Are you hurt?”

“...Shouldn’t you be asking yourself that,” Tsukishima quietly snarks in reply, exhaling a tired sigh before attempting to extract himself from Kuroo’s death grip. “...Kuroo-san, let go.”

“Ah, sorry.” Kuroo releases the blond, lying limp on the floor as Tsukishima carefully untangles their limbs and sits upright, leaning against the bed. “You okay?”

“Fine.” When Kuroo pins him with a concerned gaze, he sighs once again before elaborating in his usual bland tone.

“...You have it worse than me, I landed on you instead of the floor.”

Grinning widely, Kuroo laughs in relief, ignoring the ache flaring up in his right shoulder. He’d bruised far worse before because of volleyball practice - this was nothing.

“...Don’t expect me to thank you,” Tsukishima says, long fingers fidgeting anxiously. His golden gaze is fixated on the floor, darting up once to meet Kuroo’s for a brief second before they return to the ground.

“You’re quite welcome, Tsukki~” Kuroo chirps happily, eyes focused on the blond.

There’s a quick knock on the bedroom door, followed immediately by it swinging open and Kuroo’s mother stepping in. She takes in the sight of her son on the floor, his gaze trained on Tsukishima, who sits playing with his fingers, studiously avoiding Kuroo’s gaze.

“Tetsu,” she laughs, “you two fell off the bed, didn’t you.”

Kuroo grumbles loudly in response, still flat on his back, shoulder throbbing dully.

“I told Kei-chan to use the futon, but _someone_ wouldn’t let him go,” teased Kuroo’s mother, giggling when Tsukishima flushes a light pink and Kuroo freezes, eyes comically wide. “Oh, almost forgot what I came to tell you two,” she continues, “come down and eat breakfast. We’re leaving in 15, so be ready.”

“Leaving? Where are we going?” Kuroo asks, eyes bright with curiosity.

Even Tsukishima manages to look disinterestedly interested, golden eyes squinting down at his fingers in his lap.

“It’s a surprise~” she answers happily, leaving the room before her son could being pestering her with questions. She hears Kuroo excitedly ask Tsukishima _Where do you think it’ll be??_ and realizes that she should probably point something out.

Popping her head back into the room, she catches Kuroo’s attention and mimes glasses while pointing at Tsukishima, her eyes silently scolding her son - _Get Kei-chan his glasses, now_ \- before she leaves again.

 _Ah, glasses, glasses...I remember seeing them somewhere_ , Kuroo thinks to himself, frowning in concentration as he scans the room, _...there!_ He calmly stands, Tsukishima raising his head to follow the movement, raising an eyebrow the slightest of millimeters upward in confusion as he watches.

Plucking the glasses from the headboard of his bed, Kuroo cautiously squats in front of the blond, setting them in their rightful place. Golden eyes blink up at him, unfocused at first - he watches as they slowly become used to the much clearer world behind lenses, then widen at Kuroo’s proximity. Their noses are almost touching, and Tsukishima’s entire body stiffens, muscles coiled tight.

Fighting back a chuckle, Kuroo watches the war happening within Tsukishima via the blond’s body language and eyes.

_Fight, or Flight?_

Patiently, Kuroo holds himself still on the balls of his feet, afraid any movement would cause Tsukishima to immediately pick fight over flight and lash out in defense. For a few seconds more, their gazes remained locked, before Tsukishima’s is lowered to the side.

 _Flight, huh_.

“...Kuroo-san, you’re too close.”

With his familiar Cheshire cat grin, Kuroo laughs, bright and carefree, stretching forward to plant a light kiss directly on Tsukishima’s nose. He stands and stretches languidly with a pleased hum, ambling to the bathroom and missing the rosy tint to Tsukishima’s cheeks and how he meekly touches his nose.

 

***

 

After an eventful 4 minutes spent in the bathroom together…

_“Kuroo-san, hurry up…”_

_“Tsukki! It takes time to be beautiful, you know?”_

_“...It’ll look the same as always, a disaster.”_

_“I’ll have you know that it’s a calculated, beautifully sexy disaster!”_

_“Oh, so you don’t deny that it’s a disaster? ...I need to shower, you can do whatever you want outside.”_

_“Wait, Tsukki! I have to brush my tee--”_

_“You and I both know we’ve already brushed our teeth, get out.”_

_“Tsukkiiiii, you’re so cruel to meee.”_

Kuroo plops himself down at the table for breakfast, his mother placing a bowl of piping hot rice along with a plate piled high with steaming sides in front of him, before adding a pair of chopsticks.

“Where’s Kei-chan?”

“Schowher,” Kuroo mumbles around a mouthful of rice, “Fffffuuuh, shou haawtt…”

“Don’t shovel rice into your mouth like that, you’ll choke,” his mother reprimands, handing him a bowl of miso soup before setting the same amount of food in front of the seat directly across the table from Kuroo, as well as another pair of chopsticks.

Tsukishima is meandering down the stairs not even 3 minutes later, appearing to be quite pleased and smelling strongly of Kuroo’s shampoo (not that he was complaining). His blond hair is mostly dry, the somewhat damp strands near his neck curling and causing Kuroo’s fingers to itch at the sight, an overwhelming urge to _touch_ forcing all other thoughts out of his mind. Kuroo’s eyes roam lower, and his heart is pierced by a metaphorical arrow when he sees one of his shirts on Tsukishima - it’s a solid black, one of the many that Kuroo owns, with a v neck that exposes delectable collarbones, and it’s tight enough to hug all the curves of Tsukishima in all the right ways. The shirt, having been a bit too long on Kuroo, fits perfectly on the taller blond, and the shoulders are just a tiny bit too large for Tsukishima’s slender frame, giving the slightly baggy and very adorable look. He’s wearing a pair of Kuroo’s sleek black sweatpants, and they are thankfully long enough to allow only a small peek of pale ankles.

_Wow, his legs are like, a mile long…_

Kuroo’s gaze wanders multiple times over Tsukishima’s outfit; the blond had a habit of wearing light colours whenever he wasn’t in his school uniform, and it was very rare to see him in full black. Compared to the usual light colours that complimented Tsukishima’s blond hair and fair complexion, the black is a perfect contrast, emphasizing the pale skin, light hair, and golden eyes. He looks profoundly exquisite, and Kuroo contemplates making him change, so no one else would be blessed with such a sight.

“...What,” Tsukishima demands, sliding the chair across from Kuroo out and sitting down.

“N-nothing, just thinking that you should eat more!”

Pushing his glasses farther up his nose with a finger, Tsukishima glances down at the heap of food placed before him, breathing out a low groan. “I can’t finish this much,” he protested weakly, eyeing the plate of salted mackerel, scrambled eggs, sausages, and salad.

Kuroo shoves some scrambled egg and rice into his mouth, talking through the mouthful. “Yes, you can. You’re still growing, you need to eat more,” he swallows, “Now, eat!”

The blond huffs in irritation, but obediently picks up his chopsticks and begins eating.

Kuroo’s mother bustles around the house, searching for things that belong in and should be returned to her purse, preparing to leave as Kuroo and Tsukishima eat. “Tetsu dear, rinse the dishes and put them in the dishwasher as usual when you two are finished, I’m going to use the washroom really quick before we leave.”

“Mm,” Kuroo hums in response, sipping his soup.

Somehow, Tsukishima manages to finish the giant breakfast, the dishes are placed in the dishwasher, Kuroo takes a super speedy shower, and then they are all in the car, driving down the street, in less than a total of 13 minutes.

 

***

 

“We’re here~”

“Tsukki, wake up.”

“...I’m not asleep,” Tsukishima replies, eyes fluttering open and regarding Kuroo sleepily, “just resting my eyes.”

“We’re--”

“Alright,” Kuroo’s mother cheerfully interrupts as she reverses the car into a parking spot, seemingly unaware that her son had been speaking, “the manager offered to allow you two a whole day here, free of charge. I’ll go in with you, since I have to speak with the manager, but I have to go to work right after. You two have yourself a good time today, okay dears?”

“Okay,” Kuroo grins happily, and Tsukishima replies with a soft hum of acknowledgement and a miniscule nod of his head.

They step out of the car together, the vehicle emitting a _beep beep_ to signal it had been locked. Kuroo drapes the large grey sweater he had insisted on bringing - much to his mother’s surprise and suspicion (Kuroo usually only wears a t shirt, protesting that he’d never be cold because it was spring and not winter) - over an arm, practically vibrating with his enthusiasm.

Once they enter the building, Kuroo’s mother is greeted by the manager, and her son’s attention is instantly captured by a midnight black cat padding up to him. Tsukishima lags at the back of the group, watching as Kuroo instantly kneels in front of the feline, the two beginning a staring contest of some sort. The manager directs Kuroo’s mother towards their office, and they leave Kuroo and Tsukishima standing alone in the hallway with the cat.

A girl wearing a blue t shirt with an outline of a cat on it hurries over to the two. “Ah, hello, welcome! If you haven’t noticed already, this is a cat cafe, and I am pleased to inform you that today, the shop and all our services are open only to you, and another pair who we expect will be arriving shortly. I--”

Kuroo gasps loudly in delight, and Tsukishima shoots him a glare before returning his attention to the girl.

She laughs at Kuroo’s childlike enthusiasm before continuing, “--I work as a waitress, but I am also here to answer any and all questions you may have about our cats! Please do not feed them any of the foods we offer on our menu, and do not hesitate to order anything, it’s all free for you today,” she concludes, smiling.

“...Thank you,” Tsukishima murmurs, adjusting his glasses with a hand.

“Then, please follow me.”

The blond gently smacks Kuroo, who had frozen in place, the black cat rubbing at his legs. Blinking, he jolts out his stupor, standing quickly before trailing after the girl, the cat and Tsukishima at his heels. When they reach the main room, the girl instructs them to order food with any of the tablets mounted on the tables, and leaves for the kitchen with a bow.

The room itself is enormous, large windows allowing natural lighting in, and there are a few bookshelves of books along the walls. Low wooden tables with bench like seats are in neat rows on one side, taking up only a small quarter or third of the room, and glossy wood flooring softly gleams in the warm fluorescent lighting. Cat toys, bean bag chairs, huge plush pillows, massive colourful mats that fit together like jigsaw pieces, and giant cushions are scattered around the rest of the area; the main attractions - the cats - are lounging all around the room, some curled on top of tables or bookshelves. A narrow staircase leads up to a whole array of wooden walkways, rope bridges, stepping stones, and large round platforms for the cats, all suspended an impressive 2 meters above even Tsukishima’s head. Colourful and simple posters cover the walls, informing customers about the different breeds of cats, cat body language, and other tidbits of information.

Kuroo saunters towards a pile of giant cushions and bean bag chairs near a corner of the gigantic room, sitting cross legged on the floor and wriggling his fingers at the black cat. Clicking his tongue, Tsukishima gathers some large red and yellow mats, assembling them together and creating a large square that could comfortably fit 6 people of his height lying down.

“Kuroo-san, don’t sit on the floor,” Tsukishima taps a red mat, settling onto a yellow one and smiling softly when Kuroo crawls over, the cat following close behind. Amused, he observes as Kuroo wiggles his fingers in the air, the cat sitting back on its haunches to bat playfully at them.

When Kuroo flops down onto his side, head resting on his sweater, the black cat immediately begins climbing up his stomach. A few minutes later, and Tsukishima can barely spot Kuroo under a writhing mass of cats. Many tuck themselves near Kuroo’s chest or legs, some snuggle into his - Tsukishima knows it’s soft and silky - wild hair, and the rest simply enjoy climbing all over his curled form.

Cats from all over the room continue to flock towards Kuroo but skitter around Tsukishima, remaining a wary distance away.

“Hey, kitties, don’t be mean to Tsukki. Look, I like him,” Kuroo says with laughter ringing like cheerful bells in his voice, pulling Tsukishima into a brief hug, “so you guys should like him too~ He doesn’t bite, see?”

The blond grumbled in irritation, but visibly perks up when cats being approaching him. They cautiously venture within arm’s reach, curling up and enjoying his quiet presence. Kuroo’s attention is pried from Tsukishima by the black Bombay cat from before; it paws at Kuroo’s arm, demanding to play. Chuckling quietly, he obliges, gently scratching it behind the ears and waving a fake fur mouse attached to a string for it to pounce on.

Tsukishima shifts, slightly uncomfortable with nothing to lean back on, dragging a bean bag chair onto the mat and sitting on it. Settling down comfortably, he carefully folds his long legs, pressing them close to the chair. A mainly grey Maine Coon with black and white streaks stalks towards where Tsukishima sits, ears pressed forward and gaze curious. Tentative but willing, he gradually extends a hand toward the approaching feline, training his gaze on the floor.

He makes the mistake of glancing up, and it simultaneously both hurts and saves him. Extending a playful paw to bat at the pale fingers, the cat locks eyes with Tsukishima, and there’s a flash of claws.

Jolting, he hastily withdraws his hand, thankful that volleyball had sharpened his reflexes. Tsukishima manages to avoid any real damage, but his ring and middle finger are scratched near the knuckle, down the length right before the second joint (counted from the fingertips) of his finger. He leans away from the cat with a hiss, clutching his hand to his chest protectively.

Kuroo’s body jerks, startled, at the sound. He is immediately at Tsukishima’s side, intelligent hazel eyes taking in the scene, instantly putting two and two together. Growling ferociously at the Maine Coon, he cradles the injured hand in both of his own, inspecting with narrowed eyes to determine the severity of the injury.

Blood slowly wells from the shallow cuts, and Kuroo is beside himself with worry, the anxiety radiating off him in thick waves. “I’ll get bandages.”

“...I’m fine…”

“Wait here, I’ll get bandages,” Kuroo repeats in a low growl.

Tsukishima’s eyes widen at the authority in his tone - it wasn’t a request, it was an _order_ \- before he surrenders with a microscopic dip of his head, teeth worrying at his bottom lip. Kuroo nods in return with a short jerk of his head and storms off, steps light and agile as a cat’s even with his anger.

A short minute later, he’s stalking back, clutching the black strap of a vividly red first aid kit in a fist. Anxiously nibbling at his lip, Tsukishima nervously fiddles with his thumbs, the cuts on his fingers beginning to sting terribly. He flinches when Kuroo abruptly kneels in front of him - swiftly enough to define as _falling_ to his knees - and drops the first aid kit, carefully looking over the scratches once again.

“...Does it hurt?”

Tsukishima stubbornly shakes his head, gaze lowered.

Kuroo unzips the crimson box, tearing open a white package with his teeth. “Sorry, this is going to hurt. Bear with it,” he whispers before lightly pressing a disinfectant wipe to one of the cuts.

Inhaling shallowly, the blond grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut. He misses the way Kuroo glances up, pained by the blond’s pain but refusing to cut corners and risk infection. When Kuroo sighs softly in relief and the stinging is replaced by gentle hands carefully straightening his fingers, Tsukishima’s eyes flutter open. Deft fingers wrap pure white bandages around the wounds, looping them three times around and tight enough to keep the cuts closed; the blond is startled by how focused Kuroo is on such a simple task, treating his hand like something extremely precious.

Kuroo lowers his head, presses a tender kiss to the bandaged fingers, and proceeds to wander away (presumably returning the first aid kit he brings along). To say the least, Tsukishima is shocked by his actions.

Reassuring the waitress girl and thanking her multiple times, Kuroo returns to find Tsukishima asleep. The blond head is tipped to one side, revealing a pale, unmarked expanse of neck. Long fingers rest comfortably on a bundle of grey fur with black and white streaks resting on Tsukishima’s lap, and there are a few other cats pressed next to him on the bean bag chair.

Sitting on a red mat, Kuroo is equal parts surprised and furious to realize the grey Maine Coon that had clawed Tsukishima is the ball of fur residing on the blond’s lap. Pleased by the peaceful scene before him, he decides to leave it be; of course, not before draping the grey sweater over Tsukishima.

 

 

 

**10:22AM**

“Why must I accompany you anywhere.”

“It’s a date, you know, a date.”

“...A da--?!”

“Ah, Yaku-san, we’re here!”

“A date…”

“Hm? Yaku-san, did you say something,” Lev questions, holding the door open and standing back.

“...Huh,” Yaku mutters to himself, stepping through the doorway, “...Hm? Lev...it’s closed…?”

“My sister knows someone--”

“Hello, welcome!”

Lev grins at the girl, who locks the door behind them and begins spewing pleasantries and information - a repeat of what she had told Kuroo and Tsukishima earlier. Yaku stands frozen as he listens, and Lev constantly nods energetically, practically bouncing in excitement.

A Russian Blue cat bounds down the hall, gradually approaching Yaku. The libero blinks, eyes following the feline as it twines around his legs, happily nudging at his ankles with its head. He kneels nonchalantly, cautiously petting the cat’s head, oblivious to the waitress girl finishing her greeting and leaving. The cat yowls in alarm when Lev suddenly bends down, leaping with nimble grace into a startled Yaku’s arms.

“Lev! You scared it,” Yaku scolds, holding the cat close to his chest and stroking it soothingly.

Lev pouts childishly and locks eyes with the cat, who smugly snuggles closer to Yaku with a self satisfied _meow_. Outraged by the cheeky feline, Lev glares daggers even as it purrs happily in Yaku’s arms. Unaware of the war happening between the two (although it was mostly one sided, on Lev’s part), Yaku stands, remarking a quiet _We should go in_ before striding away. Disheartened, Lev trails behind him, like a lost timid puppy following a kind stranger that had fed it once.

Yaku’s heart instantly melts once a few curious cats approach him and nuzzle at his legs. Patiently sitting cross legged on the floor, the libero allows the felines to climb all over his legs, cooing soft words of praise and paying equal attention to each one. The Russian Blue cat takes up permanent residence on his lap, hissing at those who bask in Yaku’s affection for what it deems to be too long and batting angrily at any who attempt to steal the spot.

Smiling softly, Lev is content to sit and take photos on his phone from a distance. Rarely was Yaku ever smiling as broadly and joyfully as he was playing with the cats, and the cute bundles of fur were a wonderful addition to the many photos the tall spiker lovingly took. A small and mostly brown Siamese cat took an instant liking to Lev, leaping onto his raised arms and scrabbling at his bicep until he caught on and boosted it up to his shoulder with a large hand. Pleased, it bounds up, curling itself around Lev’s neck before nipping at his ear.

“Ow! That’s not how you thank someone for helping you,” Lev mumbles, “Ouch--Don’t bite me again!”

As if it had understood him and regretted its actions, the Siamese nuzzles Lev’s cheek and licks his ear apologetically with a rough tongue. Chuckling, he pets the small head with a forefinger - the feline purring softly, almost reluctantly - until it seems to realize what was happening and tries to bite Lev. Instead of jerking his hand back, Lev regards the cat with patiently honest green eyes; suddenly losing its resolve, the feline settled down on Lev’s shoulder, head pressed to the spiker’s neck. Gaze wandering the room, Lev considers naming the Siamese cat Yaku #2, before he notices quite a few felines padding across the room towards what looks to be a pile of cats.

 _Or fur_ , Lev thinks, _Maybe I’m just seeing things_ …

Nonetheless, it has piqued his curiosity, so he saunters over to investigate, feeling just a bit proud that the Siamese - Yaku #2? - doesn’t leap down from his shoulders. He finds Kuroo lying down on a large island of interconnected mats, the cats piled all over him batting playfully at his clothes and hair as he watches a blond with obvious affection. Lev recognizes Tsukishima from training camp, the tall blond asleep on a plush bean bag chair, a few cats curled around him and one in his lap.

“Lev! What are you doing over there?” Yaku calls as he approaches, having realized that Lev had wandered away. The cats he had been playing with follow eagerly behind him, and the Russian Blue cat is in his arms again.

Kuroo immediately sits up with an irritated frown, cats yowling quietly in disgruntled protest as they are dislodged. As he blinks in speechless shock at Lev and Yaku, the cats cuddle back around him, pressing close to his legs and hips. Lev gently shushes Yaku, hooking a thumb at Tsukishima, who frowns slightly, golden eyes fluttering open.

Under his breath, Kuroo mutters an alarmed _shit!_ , bounding to land right in Tsukishima’s field of vision, blocking out everything else. He cups the blond’s face in his hands, soothingly stroking the pale cheeks with his thumbs.

“Shh. Sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep,” Kuroo whispers encouragingly.

“...Kuroo--,” Tsukishima mumbles, eyes glazed with sleep.

“Shhh. Sleep, Kei.”

The blond finally relents with a mild hum, eyes slowly closing. Body tense but hands gentle and relaxed, Kuroo remains posed for a long minute, until he is satisfied with all the signs that point to Tsukishima being asleep. Cautiously, he withdraws his hands, turning to Yaku and Lev, pinning the two with an incredulous gaze.

“Yakkun, Lev…! What are you two doing here?”

“My sister knows someone who works here, and they said we could come!” Lev energetically chirps with a wide grin, eliciting a backhanded smack from Yaku.

“You’re too loud, dumbass.”

“Sorry, Yaku-san.”

The cat on Lev’s shoulder (Yaku #2) promptly begins hissing at Yaku, and the libero glares menacingly in return. Kuroo observes the whole scene with a laugh, a few of the cats that had followed Yaku over joined the ones pressed to his legs.

“Uwah, Kuroo-san, the cats like you a lot!” Lev whisper-shouts in wonder, and Kuroo straight out hisses at him like a cat: _Quiet down!_

“Sorry, Kuroo-san.”

“Wow, the cats really do like you a lot,” Yaku murmurs, sitting down a few mats away.

“Haha, yeah,” Kuroo replies, petting a few and smiling as they push against his hand, purring like small engines.

“...Probably because you _are_ a cat,” Yaku continues.

Kuroo blinks.

“Sir, are you aware that you are a cat,” Yaku deadpans, stroking the cat in his lap thoughtfully.

Huffing a laugh, Kuroo hunches over, holding his sides as his shoulders shake with barely suppressed laughter, little gasps and wheezes occasionally escaping. Lev, confused, attempts to understand for all of 3 seconds, before abandoning the idea and playing with Yaku #2 instead. Yaku continues petting the cat in his lap with a thoughtful expression, pondering furiously about something unknown.

Kuroo continues silently (mostly) laughing for half an hour; just seeing one of the many cats around him sends him snickering again.

 

 

 

**11:23AM**

“Hey, Yakkun.”

“What?”

“Lev, huh?”

Yaku splutters, flush rising high on his cheeks. Involuntarily, his gaze darts to the person in question.

Long limbs folded close and curled up like a cat like Tsukishima, Lev breathes peacefully in his sleep. His body is turned towards Yaku, presenting the libero with a perfect view of his vulnerable face. With his eyes closed and an almost serious expression on his face, Yaku could see how Lev would appeal to all the ladies.

 _If he was serious all the time, he would be so popular…_ Not even 3 seconds later, Yaku finds himself regretting that thought.

If Lev was popular, he wouldn’t bother Yaku all the time. His personality wouldn’t be quite as annoying. Perhaps his volleyball abilities would increase. He wouldn’t need to be scolded quite as often. Maybe he’d even learn some common sense. His God blessed height and eye-catching half Russian features wouldn’t go to waste.

...He wouldn’t need Yaku in his life anymore.

Frowning, he scrutinizes Lev, who slumbered on, unaware of the conflict and turmoil happening in Yaku.

It was all true. It was all true, but…

Yaku realized he _liked_ being bothered all the time, even if it was a pain. Lev’s personality was annoying at times, but it was all part of who he was. His volleyball skills were mediocre, but Yaku found himself mesmerized by Lev’s plays whenever he managed to pull it off. _Annoying_ as it was, Yaku realized he enjoyed scolding Lev to an extent; it was something like habit, or their usual friendly bantering. Since Lev had next to no common sense, Yaku felt as if he had to take care of the starry eyed kouhai that loyally followed him around, wondering at and praising practically everything he did. Although it was frustrating that he didn’t get any height and Lev was blessed with way too much, Yaku found that he didn’t mind; the half Russian features were definitely _not_ going to waste on Lev.

...And he would be so lost without Lev.

Suddenly, Yaku wanted to cry. To curl up into a little ball and cry until he ran out of tears. He jolts when he hears Lev mumble something, leaning closer to hear.

“--an. --ku-san…--Yaku-san…,” Lev murmurs.

Startled, Yaku only stares, absently wondering _Is he awake?_ , but soon realizing that Lev was clearly _not_ awake. The hand resting near Lev’s face clenches into a tight fist, his thin eyebrows pushing together in an unhappy frown. Hesitantly, Yaku scoots closer, until he’s right beside Lev’s curled form, a hand subconsciously reaching out.

His fingertips accidentally tap against Lev’s knuckles, and the fist unfurls like a flower blooming, exposing the large palm; Yaku’s reminded of an enthusiastic puppy rolling onto its back to display soft belly. Embarrassed by Lev’s reaction to his touch - even though he was asleep! - Yaku pulls his hand back a few centimeters before rethinking it, resting his fingertips on top of Lev’s.

Lev breathes a sigh, relaxing just the slightest bit, eyebrows still furrowed. Relieved, Yaku leans forward from his ram rod straight position, his fingers slipping and sliding down, landing perfectly positioned between Lev’s. Heart thudding in his ears, Yaku stills, helplessly taking in the sight of Lev’s hand curling around his, long fingers trapping Yaku’s hand like a cage for a small flighty bird. For a moment, Lev’s hand squeezes Yaku’s in a tight grip, as if to confirm that it was really there.

This time, there is no sound; Lev simply relaxes completely, face calm and tranquil once again. His hand delicately cradles Yaku’s, warm palm pressed to the libero’s cool one, grip loose enough that it would take next to no effort to break.

Yet, Yaku has no intention of moving. Although his face is burning from his embarrassment, he resolves to stay exactly where he is.

“Wow, you’re totally smitten,” Kuroo nonchalantly comments, smirk disclosing his pleasure with the situation.

Yaku opens and closes his mouth soundlessly like a fish out of water for a few seconds before a determined look enters his eyes. “...Yeah.”

Kuroo is unable to reply; Yaku’s honest and straightforward answer leaves him shocked silent. Yaku shifts even closer to Lev, using his free hand to caress the fine silvery grey hair. His eyes soften, expression open and unguarded, and Kuroo feels as if he was intruding, witnessing something private that he shouldn’t be seeing.

Cheeks rosy and eyes glittering, Yaku watches the way Kuroo gazes at Tsukishima. There’s a softness in the sharp cat-like eyes, a softness not one person who knew Kuroo Tetsurou could say they’ve seen. Now it was Yaku’s turn to feel like an intruder; he figured Kuroo only made such a vulnerable expression when he thought no one else would see it.

Or...Perhaps it was just Tsukishima?

Yaku smirks.

“Hey, Kuroo.”

Blinking away his previous expression, Kuroo’s aura switches back into his habitual cunning and teasing one. “Hmm?”

“--You’re _real_ close with Karasuno’s 11, hm~?” Yaku drawls, drawing out the _real_.

A hint of an embarrassed flush threatens to colour Kuroo’s cheeks for a split second, before he grins slyly from ear to ear. He lowers his voice, purring the next question in a tone so sensual that Yaku immediately thinks _That voice is illegal_.

“Jealous?”

“N--No! Why would I be…?!”

“Cause you already have Lev, right,” Kuroo teases, winking suggestively.

“Sh--Shut up!”

Tsukishima was clearly something precious to Kuroo, and yet, Yaku couldn’t help noticing the distance between them.

 

 

 

**1:45PM**

Kuroo yawns widely. The comfortable silence paired with the deep breathing of those asleep created an atmosphere that was the perfect lullaby to sleep; Kuroo finds himself being swiftly and thoroughly tangled in its alluring tendrils, blinking drowsily in a weak attempt to fight against it.

Yaku had fallen asleep around...87 minutes ago, Kuroo notes, watching as his phone screen dims before turning off. His sleepy brain quietly informs him that it is the perfect opportunity to take some photos, whether they be blackmail or fap material. The tiny functional part of Kuroo’s rational brain reminds him not to do such things.

Rebellious and irrational as he looks, Kuroo Tetsurou has a very strict rule he follows when it comes to taking photos: none will be willingly taken by his hands if the subject is a person who is asleep (unless, of course, the person has given consent ahead of time). Although he would love a photo of Tsukishima asleep and defenseless, Kuroo silences his desires, contending himself with just having the sight before him. Taking candid photos of the blond while he was awake and unaware, however, would soon become one of Kuroo’s favourite pastimes; he even creates a separate folder on his phone (labelled Tsukki <3) just for them.

Wistfully, Kuroo observes Lev and Yaku snuggled together for warmth, the fingers of Yaku’s left hand still entwined with those of Lev’s right. Yaku’s right hand is still buried in Lev’s hair, and Lev’s head is pressed to Yaku’s stomach, his left arm draped over the libero’s waist. A few cats curled up pressed to their backs; a Russian Blue cat and a brown Siamese were squeezed in between Yaku and Lev’s legs. No doubt they would be embarrassed by their subconscious snuggling once they woke up, but they wouldn’t mind it; Kuroo wondered what Tsukishima would say if he woke up pressed to Kuroo again.

Clutching his phone tightly in one hand, Kuroo curls up a short distance from Tsukishima, glancing once more at the blond. Cats pressed themselves close to Kuroo, as if sensing his sorrow, and the dark haired captain allowed himself to take comfort from the felines. Carefully holding the black Bombay cat that was really attached to him in his arms, Kuroo surrendered himself to sleep, hazel cat-like eyes drifting closed.

 

 

 

**2:00PM**

Tsukishima rises to half consciousness when he hears a girl giggling. Through a haze of drowsiness, the sound of a phone camera shutter reaches him; he is too tired to care.

The blond had stayed up late keeping a careful eye on Kuroo, the image of him shaking and coughing up blood mixed with petals haunting Tsukishima, leaving him anxious and wide awake. Every time Kuroo had shifted in his sleep, blood covered petals had appeared in Tsukishima’s mind, and he had started mindlessly stroking the wild, silky hair in an almost desperate attempt to calm himself. Sometimes, the blond had even found himself running his fingertips up and down Kuroo’s bare, strong back, reassuring himself that the elder was breathing normally; somehow, the rise and fall of Kuroo’s back as he breathed, paired with the feel of his warm, smooth skin, had lulled Tsukishima to sleep sometime in the early hours of the morning.

Amazingly, Kuroo seemed perfectly back to normal in the morning at breakfast, and Tsukishima had finally found it safe enough to allow himself to relax; he had actually almost fallen asleep in the car, but the ride was thankfully short enough to prevent it. Now, the aftermath of staying up so late on high alert was hitting the blond hard, and he couldn’t bring himself to wake up - not when it felt so good to finally sleep. Ignoring the giggling and the camera shutter clicks, Tsukishima sleeps on.

 

 

 

**2:27PM**

Tsukishima wakes to the feeling of a stare intense enough to burn holes through him. He stubbornly keeps his eyes closed, hoping that whoever is staring at him would look away and allow him to continue sleeping. No dice, however; the stare continues drilling holes through him, and he decides he is too uncomfortable to sleep any more.

Golden eyes fluttering open, Tsukishima adjusts his glasses with a finger, noticing a brunet with eyes of a brown darker than his hair watching him. Realizing Tsukishima was staring back, the brunet adverts his eyes, directing his attention to the cat in his lap.

“Uhm...Yaku…-san...Was it?”

Yaku nods before replying, “And you’re Tsukishima-kun.”

The blond blinks in surprise. Yaku smiles.

“Kuroo has talked a lot about you, Mr. First Year Karasuno Middle Blocker.”

“...He has…?”

“No, I was just kidding,” Yaku laughs.

“...”

“...Kuroo never talks about his feelings,” the libero continues, “But I’ve seen the way he looks at you.”

Tsukishima sits silently.

“...How do you feel about him?”

“He’s annoying,” Tsukishima instantly replies.

“Do you really think so?”

“...It’s...not bad.”

“Then...Do you like him?”

 _Why do I feel so obliged to answer him…?_ “I...don’t hate him,” he replies with an air of finality, and Yaku switches topics without delay.

“He’s really loved by cats, huh,” Yaku muses with a chuckle, eyeing the huge volume of felines surrounding Kuroo.

A small laugh escapes Tsukishima against his will.

“I wonder how many we can balance on him before he wakes up?”


	4. Cuddling With Cats 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> /Sheepishly comes back with a new chapter after many months of absence/
> 
> Merry (early) Christmas, hope you enjoy this new chapter, I had a little too much fun writing it so it's longer than usual

**2:37PM**

Narrow green eyes slowly open, the sleepy gaze focusing on his open hand. Lev remembers fingers entwined in his own, a warm body pressed close to his, and a gentle hand stroking his hair. He wonders if it was all a dream.

“...7,” Yaku counts as he slowly lowers a ginger cat onto Kuroo’s side, followed by a fluffy white one, “...8…”

Tsukishima snickers softly at his side, cautiously lowering a black and white cat onto Kuroo’s arm, the feline stretching out its paws in a desperate reach for a solid surface to rest on. One black paw presses onto Kuroo’s cheek, the other - a white paw - presses onto Kuroo’s shoulder, and the blond’s eyes widen in alarm before he swiftly pulls the cat back.

Yaku notices Kuroo’s eyebrows draw together in a wince of pain before the hazel eyes flutter open, immediately focusing on Tsukishima, who is scolding the cat.

“You weren’t supposed to touch the shoulder...Kuroo-san is hurt there, don’t touch.”

Smiling briefly, Kuroo closes his eyes, pretending to be asleep once again.

Placing the cat aside, Tsukishima hovers nervously over Kuroo, hesitantly pressing his fingertips to the elder’s hand apologetically. Glancing away, Yaku returns to Lev’s side; the spiker, without any hesitation, throws his arms around Yaku’s waist, pouting and grumbling. With an exasperated but fond sigh, the libero begins rubbing soothing circles on the broad back, secretly pleased when Lev hums in contentment.

“...Kuroo-san…” Tsukishima whispers, anxiety evident in his every movement and expression.

“Kuroo,” Yaku calls, “How long are you going to pretend to be asleep?”

Twisting his hand under Tsukishima’s, Kuroo takes advantage of the blond’s shock, twining their fingers together. “Hmph, that wasn’t nice, calling me out like that,” he pouts, hazel eyes opening to glare mock angrily at Yaku before smiling up at Tsukishima.

Leaving his hand in Kuroo’s, the blond reaches his free hand out. “Kuroo-san…”

Tilting his head to the side like a curious cat, Kuroo continues smiling cheerfully, patiently waiting. When Tsukishima lowers his hand to cradle the elder’s cheek, Kuroo is startled; the blond had never shown such blatant affection before, it seemed as if he was just tolerating Kuroo’s affection.

“Don’t worry, Tsukki, I’m okay~”

“...Then strip.”

“Str--Hah?!”

“Let me see it.”

“...Wh--Why?!”

“If you’re so _okay,_ you’d be fine with showing me it,” Tsukishima snaps.

Kuroo goes silent; he can’t argue, not when it made perfect sense. Eyebrows knitting together, he considers trying to find a way out of the situation as he pushes himself up from the floor, sitting cross legged. His gaze darts toward Yaku and Lev, who are quite absorbed in each other, then back to Tsukishima’s grimly determined face.

“...Okay, okay,” he sighs in defeat, pulling his shirt over his head and turning his back.

Tsukishima emits an interesting strangled sound, flushing a burning crimson and averting his eyes, before he catches sight of the dark bruise that dominated most of Kuroo’s right shoulder, spreading down his shoulder blade. Brows furrowing, he reaches out, pressing cool fingers to Kuroo’s spine, resting them right beside the impressive bruise. Kuroo glances warily over his shoulder, nervous about how the blond would react.

“...I...”

“Kya--!”

_Kya…?_

Four sets of eyes - cat slitted hazel, deep glimmering gold, rich chocolate brown, and dark jade green - settle on the waitress girl, who stands a few paces away, face flushed and eyes diligently fixated on the wall. Kuroo reflexively clutches his shirt to his chest, trying to block as much from view as possible, and Tsukishima’s palm presses against his back, a reassuring gentle weight.

The awkward silence is shattered by the sound of a stomach grumbling. _Loudly._ All eyes turn to Lev, who laughs sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Ahaha, sorry,” he apologized, before spotting the large tray the waitress carried, “Ah, could it be, those are for us!?”

“Ah...Mm,” she dips her head in a short nod of confirmation, delicately balancing the tray and stepping forward.

Hesitantly, she approaches Tsukishima with lowered eyes and cautious steps. Intelligent golden eyes scrutinizes her as she picks up a large round plate, holding it towards the blond like an offering. Kuroo hums in soft astonishment and appreciation, reaching forward to accept it when Tsukishima makes no move to.

Instead, Tsukishima watches the waitress girl like a hawk as Kuroo places the plate down and accepts another from her with a wide smile. Her eyes linger on Kuroo’s exposed collarbone and biceps, expression one of slight disappointment when her gaze roams lower and encounters the shirt pressed to his chest.

“Thank you,” Kuroo purrs, and she drags her gaze up.

“Ah, you’re quite…” her eyes meet furious golden ones that narrow dangerously, and she engages in the most intense staring contest she has ever experienced in her life, “--welcome…”

She quickly turns away, afraid of those calculating eyes, feeling them drill holes in her back as she strode toward Lev and Yaku. Taking comfort in the beaming grin Lev aims at her, she smiles in return as she leaves them their plates.

“Thank you~!” Lev practically shouts in his happiness.

“...Thank you…” Yaku echoes, voice much quieter.

The waitress girl bows - first towards Tsukishima and Kuroo, then toward Yaku and Lev - before leaving. Tsukishima immediately jumps up from his seat, much to the surprise of Kuroo and the discontentment of a few cats, the sweater on his shoulders somehow remaining in place.

Flabbergasted, Kuroo stares as the blond pursues the waitress girl, the mostly grey Maine Coon that had been occupying Tsukishima’s lap padding after him with only a few seconds of hesitation.

He continues staring incredulously after Tsukishima, even as the blond returns mere minutes later with the Maine Coon in his arms and a white package. It’s one of those ice packs that are used immediately to treat injuries, a pack of liquid required to be bent to release and mix chemicals that make it cold, colder than normal frozen ice. Tsukishima bends the package with brutal indifference, throwing it - gently tossing it, really - at Kuroo once the _crack_ of releasing chemicals is heard, huffing in feigned annoyance.

Kuroo catches the ice pack thanks to pure instinct, and proceeds to promptly drop it onto the floor. “Cold!”

“It’s supposed to be,” Tsukishima points out while lowering himself back on his bean bag chair, the cat settling itself on his lap.

“Tsukkiiiii,” Kuroo whines.

“What is it.”

“I can’t reach back there,” is the dramatically sorrowful sigh.

Every single one of them - Tsukishima, Lev, Yaku, and even Kuroo himself - knew Kuroo was more than flexible enough to reach behind his back with his other hand. Tsukishima frowns in irritation, observing Kuroo as he prods gingerly at his bruised right shoulder with the index finger of his left hand, wincing with a nearly inaudible hiss. Just as Kuroo raises the ice pack, Tsukishima clicks his tongue, standing from his seat and sitting down beside Kuroo in a swift motion, ignoring the indignant yowl of a cat landing on the floor.

With the element of surprise on his side, Tsukishima reaches up behind Kuroo’s head, spreads his fingers, and shoves downward. He manages to push the dark head most of the way with no sign of protest from Kuroo, until he is just a few inches from success. Kuroo yelps, slamming his hands down and pushing up with his arms, his shirt falling - forgotten - to the floor.

“Tsu--Tsukki?!”

“Be quiet,” the blond grunts, arm trembling as he struggles to push against Kuroo’s quite impressive strength.

“But wh--”

“Shut up and relax!”

“Uh--”

“...Just...Just for today, okay…” Tsukishima mutters, and Kuroo freezes.

Kuroo gapes up at Tsukishima from his push up position, at a total loss for words.

“...You don’t want to?”

“Why wouldn’t I want to,” Kuroo blurts, “Uh…”

Tsukishima smiled softly in relief, cheeks flushed a light pink, before his cold indifferent mask falls back into place. “How long are you planning to have me wait.”

“...I’ll...Take you up on your off...er…” he trails off, cautiously lowering his head to the blond’s legs.

Lying stiffly, Kuroo watches Lev and Yaku - he’s jealous, just a tiny bit - cuddling in the exact same way, but with much less awkwardness than they had. When Tsukishima slides hesitant fingers into his unruly dark hair, Kuroo instinctively responds with wrapping his arms around the slender waist and squeezing closer. He glances up at the blond to gauge his reaction, expecting to see something negative, and finds soft affectionate golden eyes fixated lovingly on him.

 _Ah,_ Kuroo thinks, _those eyes, they’re so beautiful._

“What.”

“...?”

“Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Oh,” Kuroo laughs sheepishly, “I, uh, just thought that you are be--” he clears his throat nervously, whispering the last word, “--beautiful…”

Flushing crimson, Tsukishima averted his eyes, fingers subconsciously pulling at Kuroo’s hair. “Sorry,” he mutters, lifting his hands away.

“What for?” Kuroo whines at the lack of a response, reaching up to grab the blond’s hand and firmly placing it back on his head. He continues making sounds of disgruntlement, until Tsukishima gives in, settling the abandoned ice pack on Kuroo’s bruised shoulder with a sigh.

The slender fingers alternate between stroking and light gentle tugging; Kuroo shuts his eyes, happily losing himself in the sensations. Tsukishima delights in watching Kuroo relaxed and content, secretly elated to feel the elder’s chest rumbling with faint purrs. They lapse into a pleased silence, allowing them to hear Lev and Yaku.

“Yaku-san, say ahh~”

“...I can eat by myself…”

“Yaku-sannn…”

Yaku reluctantly opens his mouth, leaning towards Lev, who holds up a forkful of chocolate mousse cake. “Mm! This is good,” he hums appreciatively, licking his lips.

“I know!” Lev replies with a grin. “That’s why I thought _Yaku-san should definitely try this!_ ”

“...Here.”

Lev gawks at the forkful of tiramisu that Yaku holds toward him, promptly replying with the most intelligent thing he could muster. “...Huh?”

“Don’t huh me, eat it.”

“But--”

“If you don’t want it, just say so.”

“Of course I want it!” Lev exclaims, bending forward and biting the fork in his enthusiasm. “Ow…”

“Pft…Hahahahaha--”

Pouting, Lev whines, the _Stop laughing at me_ he was about to say sticking on his tongue when he sees Yaku laughing with abandon. It had been the first time anyone had seen Yaku laughing so much and so cheerfully.

“--Hah--Idiot--hahaha…” Yaku breathes a carefree sigh, wiping at the tears in his eyes, still grinning widely.

Chuckling, Lev replies, “I guess I am.”

“Sheesh, what would you do without me,” the brunet laughs, ruffling Lev’s hair.

The smile melts off Lev’s face. “...Yeah.”

“Why so serious?” Yaku questions, his worry showing in furrowed brows.

“No reason.” Lev quickly slips a smile into place. This seems to placate Yaku, whose worry seems to diminish.

To direct the brunet’s attention elsewhere, Lev earnestly continues feeding him bites of the chocolate cake, and Yaku responds in kind by offering forkfuls of his tiramisu.

Kuroo, who had been watching the two with his head in Tsukishima’s lap, eagerly turns his expectant gaze on the blond. “Hey, Tsukki, we should do that too~!”

“Hm?” Tsukishima hums a half-hearted reply, systematically eating his way through a round medium sized strawberry shortcake.

“...You look like you’re having fun.”

“Is there something wrong with me eating cake,” the blond retorts, biting a strawberry in half.

“No...I’m just surprised you like something so sweet…”

“Is there--”

“You know, even with all the sugar you consume, you’re not sweet at all…”

There’s a loud _clink,_ and Kuroo glances up to see Tsukishima frozen, fork stabbed deeply through a strawberry. Just as he is opening his mouth to apologize, the blond cuts him off with a smirk.

“...I know.”

The always sarcastic smirk looked, just this one time, sorrowful.

“...I take it back.”

“What?”

“What,” Kuroo parrots; he was just as bewildered as the blond with himself. “...Yeah,” he solidified his resolve, “I take it back.”

Tsukishima dismissed him with a huff, eating with neat precision again. For a moment, Kuroo wonders if his words had made any sort of impact, and then he catches the glimmer in the golden eyes. Pleased, he observes as the glimmer dances, lighting up the customarily bored blond’s eyes.

“...Mm.”

Kuroo blinks at the strawberry that was suddenly hovering above his nose. “Uh…”

“If you won’t eat it, I will,” the blond snaps, his harsh tone not fooling Kuroo for a second.

Closing his eyes, the dark haired captain simply opens his mouth, letting his actions speak in place of words. Somehow, he senses exactly when he should close his mouth, pulling the sweet berry off the fork tongs and chewing lazily.

Stunned by the amount of trust Kuroo was displaying, Tsukishima’s attention is perfectly captured as Kuroo’s eyes slowly open. Mesmerized by the unflinching hazel gaze and the flecks of gold spiraling within them, he doesn’t notice the owner of such captivating eyes sitting up and closing the distance between them until it’s too late.

Leaning closer, Kuroo laps up a dot of whipped cream at the corner of Tsukishima’s mouth with a deft tongue, licking his own lips and sitting back with a sly smile.

“Wha--”

“Whipped cream.”

“You should’ve just told me--”

“There’s more.”

“...Where,” Tsukishima demands impatiently.

“Here,” Kuroo purrs, cat slitted eyes pinning the blond in place as he bends forward.

 _I was prepared to kiss him,_ the elder growls in his mind, having halted just a few millimeters away, _perfectly prepared, and yet…_

Large naive golden eyes blink at him, disorientated, and Kuroo’s resolve dissipates like fog under warm sunlight.

_...I can’t do it._

“...Just kidding,” he mutters, shifting back and lying down on his shirt, replacing the fallen ice pack. Resting his head on his folded arms, Kuroo sighs silently.

Slowly, as if moving through water, Kuroo halfheartedly chews a piece of his green tea cake roll, idly nibbling at the tongs of the metal fork in his frustration. He didn’t even know what he was so frustrated about…

Tsukishima found himself focused on Kuroo eating; to be more accurate, on Kuroo’s lips. On how plump they looked. How the sly tongue darted out to wet them. How they had been so close…

Why did Tsukishima feel so frustrated? Was it because Kuroo had not kissed him? Was it because he had wanted Kuroo to kiss him? Or was it because Kuroo had essentially rejected the idea of kissing him by pulling back?

Disgruntled, Tsukishima reaches for the bean bag chair, pulling it toward himself before sitting on the very edge, using the greater part of it as a cushion for his back. The grey Maine Coon presses itself to one side of the chair, and Tsukishima reclines back into a more comfortable position, slouching and pulling his legs close before reaching down to stroke the feline.

Kuroo is shifting and squirming restlessly, clearly uncomfortable with lying down on the mats that provided barely any cushioning, but trying - not very successfully - to be discreet about it. Tsukishima knew, from experience, that the elder’s arms were most likely going numb from his weight; that position was never comfortable for long. Although he had his eyes closed and a stubborn air of indifference around him, the blond thought Kuroo looked like an abandoned puppy that was still dutifully waiting, hoping that it wasn’t true even though it was meaningless. If Kuroo had animal ears and a tail, the ears would be flat against his head and the tail behind between his legs.

“Kuroo-san.”

“Hn?”

“Come over here.”

“...Why?”

“Just come over.”

Kuroo hesitates, spotting his phone nearby on the ground and grabs it, pushing it into his pants pocket before standing. His shirt and ice pack dangling from a hand, he takes the one step to the blond’s side. Tsukishima gestures for him to sit, and Kuroo obediently does so without any more questions, neatly crossing his legs.

“...--So...”

“The floor isn’t comfortable,” Tsukishima states, flatly.

“--Uh…” Anyone could see the loading circle hovering above Kuroo’s head as he diligently processed the meaning behind those four words. “...! Tsukkiiiiiiiiii~!” Kuroo cheers, leaping onto the blond.

Tsukishima yelps - somehow, Kuroo had moved from beside him to in front - and holds his arms out, bracing himself. His knees are forced apart by Kuroo’s weight, and the lithe body lands right in between his legs, the head clad in unruly hair resting right by his heart.

“Tsukkiiiii,” Kuroo purrs happily, nuzzling the blond like a true cat.

“...Uhm...Kuroo-san…”

“A bit.”

Tsukishima frowns, confused.

“...Just for a bit,” Kuroo mumbles, tone pleading.

“...Okay.” He decides to leave the ice pack on the ground where Kuroo had left it - it was probably warm now, anyway - and settles with draping Kuroo’s grey sweater over his bare back.

Unsure about what to do with his hands, Tsukishima grabs his strawberry shortcake, polishing off the bites that remained - feeding the very pleased Kuroo several slices of strawberries - before placing the empty plate aside.

“Tsukki,” Kuroo mumbles with his cheek pressed to the blond’s chest, the word muffled and barely audible.

Licking his lips clean of the sweet whipped cream that had been piled quite liberally on the cake he had just finished, Tsukishima hums. Distracted by the unintentionally sensual way Tsukishima was running his tongue along his bottom lip, Kuroo’s mind blanks. The blond regards him with an inquisitive golden gaze, tongue adorably peeking slightly out his mouth - quite unhelpful to Kuroo’s sudden loss of words.

“...Kuroo-san?”

“Oh, uhm! You--You can have mine...too...if you want...”

“...Your…”

“Cake,” the elder clarifies. A light flush rises on Tsukishima’s cheeks - he had clearly misunderstood. “But you can have all of me, too,” Kuroo smirks.

“...I doubt you’d taste good,” the blond muttered, a weak last ditch attempt at a snarky comeback.

“I beg to differ,” Kuroo purrs smoothly, “you won’t know until you’ve tried it, no?”

The delicate pink blooms into a dark, beautiful rose red, and Tsukishima slaps a hand across Kuroo’s eyes, pressing his free hand to his mouth. His damage done and the image of the blond blushing with a stunned expression engraved in his mind, Kuroo is perfectly satisfied to lay still, listening to Tsukishima’s speeding heart.

After a few minutes, Tsukishima’s heart slows to normal, and the hand over Kuroo’s eyes lifts. Blinking rapidly in the sudden brightness, he sees the blond pick up the plate with the green tea roll, cutting a small piece before placing it into his mouth. Chewing thoughtfully, he hums, as if to say _huh._

Tsukishima proceeds to feed most of it to Kuroo, taking only a couple bites here and there for himself. Beyond overjoyed, the elder enthusiastically accepts every bite given to him, chest vibrating with his pleasure. Reminded strongly of a cat, Tsukishima gives Kuroo the last piece, stacking the plate and the fork on top of the other empty plate.

Slipping his fingers underneath the grey sweater draped over Kuroo’s back, he feels the strong muscles briefly ripple with a shiver when his cool fingers make contact with the warm skin. Tsukishima flattens his palm against the space between Kuroo’s shoulder blades, leisurely tracing the dip of his spine.

Nearby, Yaku piles his and Lev’s empty plates together, sighing in exasperation when Lev whines quietly at the loss of attention.

“Yaku-sannn.”

“Hm?”

“Come over today.”

“...Where?” Yaku asks, even though he is fully aware of where Lev is talking about.

“My house,” Lev states, tone matter-of-fact, “My mom told me she’s staying over at a friend’s house.”

Stunned by Lev’s lack of embarrassment, Yaku’s reply spills, unintentionally, from his lips. “...Yeah…”

“...Yeah…?” Lev mimics, clearly expecting more of an argument, a disagreement, a flat out rejection - everything except an agreement of any sort, not to even mention such an casual _yeah._ “...Yeah! That’s a yes?! Yaku-san, that’s a yes!”

“...Wait, no! I didn’t say anything like that! NO!”

“No take backs, you said yes,” Lev grumbles, and Yaku caves in mere seconds.

“...Fine. You better not try anything funny or I’ll hit you.”

“Then let’s go!” Lev abruptly releases Yaku, shooting up to sit back on his heels.

“...Now?”

“Yeah!”

Pulling out his phone, Yaku notes that it was **7:59PM** , and he realizes that he hasn’t eaten anything the whole day, other than a small breakfast and a large slice of tiramisu cake (actually, he ate more of Lev’s than his own). “...You better have good food.”

“My mom and I made sushi and curry for dinner yesterday, there’s tons of leftovers!”

Yaku’s eyes glimmer with interest as he bids the cats goodbye, petting them one last time before standing; Lev is bouncing on the balls of his feet, already itching to leave.

“Oi, Yakkun, Lev. You leaving?” Kuroo calls from his comfortable position on top of Tsukishima - the blond is in some sort of a trance, almost robotically running his fingers up and down what he could reach of Kuroo’s back.

“Yeah!” Lev practically yells, smiling widely.

“Okay, have fun,” Kuroo grins, “Make sure you be careful with Yakkun, okay, Lev?”

“Be careful…?” Lev echoed, tilting his head to one side like a confused puppy.

“Wha--What are you saying!” Yaku yells, blushing furiously.

Kuroo only laughs, raising a hand to wave lazily.

“Lev, let’s go,” Yaku growls, pulling him by the hand.

“Yaku-san, what does Kuroo-san mean?”

“Nothing!”

“But--”

Their voices fade as they walk farther away, and Kuroo chuckles quietly to himself as he hears a faint _Oh, I should text my mom_ from Yaku.

“...Should we leave, too?” Tsukishima murmurs, gently dragging his blunt nails over Kuroo’s smooth skin.

Kuroo shivers involuntarily, his body reacting for a second before he forces it back under control. “Hm, should we? Maybe we--” It takes him a moment to realize that the vibration had come from his own pocket. “--Was that my phone?”

“Yes,” is the exasperated sigh from Tsukishima.

“Oh.” Kuroo painstakingly manoeuvres his arm down to his pants pocket, slowly sliding his phone out before keying in the password to unlock it. He squints at the text message he had just received from his mother, wondering if he was seeing things.

**From: Mother Dearest <3**

**Don’t come home tonight.**

“Huh,” he huffs under his breath; he’s slightly hurt, but mostly confused and curious.

“...Don’t come home…?” Tsukishima’s deadpan holds a hint of confusion, and Kuroo realizes that the blond could see his phone screen perfectly, if he looked down. He finds that he doesn’t mind, at all.

“I don’t know what that even means…” Kuroo replies, jabbing the green call button and holding the device to his ear. His mother picks up after just two rings, and he immediately jumps straight to the point, “What do you mean, don’t come home?”

“Exactly as I said, dear.”

“Wha--”

“Take Kei-chan out for dinner, have some fun. You never go out these days, except for volleyball and school. Tomorrow’s Sunday, so have as much fun as you can--”

“But--”

“Hush, child, let me finish. There’s money in your pocket, if that’s what you’re worried about. Don’t you want to be with Kei-chan before he has to go back?”

“There’s...What.”

“Go have the time of your life, stay safe! And remember: Don’t you dare come home today. Okay~?” Kuroo’s mother sings, obviously pleased with herself.

“Uh...Okay...?”

“Good! Now go have some fun, you volleyball nerd!”

“Volleyball ner--?!” Kuroo growls incredulously, but all he hears is a dial tone - his mother had hung up already. He glared at the now silent device, the text message from his mother somehow mocking him.

“...So?” Tsukishima prompts.

“...Uh…” How was he going to explain? “...My mom told me to…” He trails off, bolting upright to pat at his pockets, sweater falling from around his shoulders.

The warm weight against him gone, Tsukishima glances up in irritation - to find Kuroo staring incredulously at a 10000 yen bill, as if he’d never seen money before. Tsukishima had never felt so strong an urge to be a smartass in his life. “That’s money, Kuroo-san.”

“I know that,” Kuroo, visibly irked, snaps, “My mom said she put money in my pocket, and that I should take you out for dinner.”

Tsukishima flushes. “...Oh...”

“--I...Probably shouldn’t have told you that, right,” the elder mumbles, frowning down at his hands.

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” the blond declares confidently.

“Uwah, you’re the best, Tsukkiii~” Kuroo pulls his black t shirt over his head, and Tsukishima’s eyes are glued to the way his _very_ defined abdomen muscles flex with the movement.

 _What a waste…_ Tsukishima blinks, shocked at his own thoughts. _\--Wait, a waste of what?_

Warm fabric is unexpectedly draped over his shoulders and he instinctively grabs it with a hand, holding it into place. Kuroo smiles gently down at him from above, back bent and hand extended. A corner of his lips tilts upward - just a bit, barely noticeable - as Tsukishima calmly stands, taking a long moment to stretch leisurely and ignoring Kuroo’s proffered hand. For the shortest of milliseconds, Kuroo is offended, before a wry smile curved his lips.

_As expected of Tsukki…_

The blond’s voice, dripping with familiar sarcasm, pulls Kuroo from his thoughts. “After you, Kuroo-san.”

“How thoughtful of you,” he lightly teases with a smirk, stepping forward.

 

 

 

**8:37PM**

Kuroo wonders if he could die from seeing something as cute as the sight he was currently witnessing; his hand automatically raises his phone, practiced fingers selecting video mode and taking more than a few photos in the middle of video recording.

Beside him stands Tsukishima, one of his hands holding the sweater around his shoulders in place, the other clutching the metal bar just centimeters above his head. His eyes, usually strategically hidden partially out of sight behind the lenses of his glasses, dart around, eagerly taking in each and every detail of the scenery rushing past outside the train window.

To anyone else, the blond looked almost bored, casually surveying the details of the city and lights, but Kuroo has learned to read the enigma that was Tsukishima Kei: from the bright glimmer of interest in his golden eyes; to the rapid blinking, as if blinking took too many precious seconds of observation time; and finally, the absent minded fidgeting and twitching - like he wanted to go, touch, _experience_ it all. Although he didn’t explicitly show it outwardly, Tsukishima is exactly like a child at times, excited and awed by anything and everything.

Ending his video at just over 40 seconds out of fear the blond would turn and discover his newfound paparazzi, Kuroo’s almost absurdly acute senses save him from a world of trouble - Tsukishima turns, having felt Kuroo’s gaze, exactly as the elder hurriedly shoves his phone into his pocket. His gaze thoughtful, Kuroo steps further into Tsukishima’s personal space, expression and movements gentlemanly as he helps the blond put the sweater on properly. Caught off guard, Tsukishima goes with the flow, raising an eyebrow minutely at Kuroo’s sudden dramatics - he seems to accept it as the reason for the elder’s blatant staring.

Absently adjusting his glasses with the hand that wasn’t being used as a support to stay upright through the movements of the train, Tsukishima returns to his childlike amazement at viewing the sprawling and brightly lit Tokyo at night. Kuroo smiles affectionately - dwarfed by a sweater that clearly wasn’t his own, the blond was exactly like a child who had rushed out of the house and forgot to bring a jacket in their excitement.

He looks almost disappointed when Kuroo informs him that their ride if over in 3 stops, but brightens considerably when Kuroo mentions that they would have to walk for around 10 to 20 minutes to reach their destination.

“Where are we walking to, China?” Tsukishima mutters sarcastically with no real bite behind his words.

“A little walking won’t kill you~ Besides, some fresh night air wouldn’t hurt,” Kuroo replies with a confident grin. He doesn’t mention the fact that they hadn’t been moving for most of the day.

The blond makes a noncommittal sound, fingers of his free hand softly curling around the sleeve of Kuroo’s sweater - it was a tiny bit too long and hung down just past his knuckles. Kuroo’s mind squeals in adoration at the small, uncharacteristically cute gesture, and he looks as pleased as a child who had received countless gifts on Christmas Day.

When Tsukishima and Kuroo exit the train, they walk side by side in relaxed silence. Tsukishima has his hands shoved in the sweater pockets, posture slightly slouched as he walks. Kuroo has his arms crossed across his chest, radiating confidence as he strides forward. Together, they dominate the sidewalk.

Later, the blond discovers that, despite the fact that Kuroo looked like he knew nothing about the process of making food, he is very skilled at cooking. The elder flips the okonomiyaki before they burn, giving them just enough time to be thoroughly cooked, and the takoyaki he makes are perfectly round. Tsukishima gladly leaves the cooking to Kuroo, and scowls when he is prodded to eat more. They banter like best friends about how much a high school student should eat, and Tsukishima appeases Kuroo by taking bites out of his food. The elder cheerily allows his food to be stolen, merrily cooking more each time.

Tsukishima also discovers that:

  1. Kuroo hovers like a worried father at times, and it makes him extremely pleased if Tsukishima smiles even the slightest bit.
  2. Kuroo knows exactly when Tsukishima wants his space, refraining from talking or asking questions and simply staying beside him.
  3. Kuroo’s real smile - not the deliberate, practiced one he gives as freely as the air he breathes - is slightly lopsided and _extremely adorable._
  4. Kuroo, no matter how stupid he acts at times, is _intelligent_ ; having a real conversation with him as they walk through a park at night makes Tsukishima realize exactly how smart the Nekoma captain is.
  5. Kuroo goes to great lengths to make a person feel comfortable and safe - or maybe it was just Tsukishima?
  6. Kuroo does almost everything for a reason. He may act like something’s unexpected, but he adapts so quick, it was like he had planned it all.
  7. Kuroo is a rebellious child who enjoys causing harmless mischief; he walks through the front door of his house at exactly **12:59PM** , grinning widely. (Tsukishima watched Kuroo wait for two minutes until he locks the front door and mutters a low _I’m home._ )
  8. Kuroo acts like he wears his heart on his sleeve, but actually hides his real feelings deep inside, refusing to let them show. He smiles often, hiding emotions behind upturned lips and pearly teeth; very rarely is he caught off guard enough to allow real emotions to escape.
  9. Kuroo is considerate, placing the feelings and wellbeing of others before his own; he offers Tsukishima his bed, and the blond smoothly declines the offer with no hesitation, insisting that the owner should be the one to sleep in his own bed. They butt heads briefly, before it is decided that they would share the bed again.



“For today...Thanks,” Tsukishima whispers to the ceiling of the dark bedroom, the fingers of his right hand tangled in Kuroo’s wild hair. He mentally files away the discoveries that he had made, pondering about how strange it felt not to have glasses resting on his face along with how oddly at home he felt in Kuroo’s house and bed.

Kuroo appears asleep, snuggled close to Tsukishima to avoid falling off the bed, chest rising and falling slowly. He twitches at the blond’s words.

  1. Kuroo sleeps lightly - like a cat - and wakes up with the smallest of noises.



Shutting his eyes, Tsukishima resolutely pretends to be asleep, feeling Kuroo’s warm breath lightly tickling his neck. The blond slowly inhales in alarm when something wet touches his neck; just as he is about to question Kuroo, he feels a slight upward curve to the lips pressed a little lower down his neck and decides to remain silent.

  1. Kuroo is not honest with his feelings - and that’s perfect, because neither is Tsukishima.



**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So much fluff
> 
> (Psst, don't forget there's an angst tag on this, the A N G S T hasn't started yet)


End file.
